THE  BARONET 
RAC-PICKE 


m 


CHARLES  S.  COOM 

- 


o  6  9  D 


THE  BARONET 
RAG-PICKER 


CAROLINE  CROYDEN" 


THE  BARONET 
RAG-PICKER 


A  Story  of  Love 
and  Adventure 


BY 


CHARLES    S.    COOM 


C.  Af.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.,  Inc. 
BOSTON,  MASS.,   U.&.A. 

1905 


Copyright,    1905,  by 

C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.,  Int. 
BOSTON,  MASS.,   U.S.A. 


Entered  at 
STATIONER'S  HALL,  LONDON 

Foreign   Copyrights  Secured 


Rights  Reserved 


Contents 


of 


CHAPTERS 

Introductory 

I     A  Few  Introductions  . 
II     Making  a  Start 

III  An  Indifferent  Profession 

IV  The  Rescue 

V     Courtship  and  Death 
VI     A  Writ   from  the    Court 

Chancery        .          .          . 
VII     Catherine  Croyden's  Story    . 
VIII     Before  the  Trial 
IX     The  Trial 
X     Arrest  and    Imprisonment 
XI     Seeking  Evidence 
XII     Trial    for    Murder.         The 
Fisherman's   Evidence 

XIII  Trial    for    Murder.         The 

Prisoner's  Evidence  . 

XIV  Trial  for  Murder.     The  Doc- 

tor's Evidence 

XV     Trial    for    Murder.        The 

Gipsy's   Evidence  .  . 

XVI     Trial  for  Murder.     Summing 

Up       .         .         .         . 

XVII     The  Verdict       .      — .—  -  . 

XVIII     Before   Leaving  the  Court    . 

XIX     A  Sermon  at  Parting  . 


2135005 


Contents 

CHAPTERS 

PAGE 

XX 

An    Introduction    Abroad 

162 

XXI 

Courtship  and  Marriage  of 

Margaret 

170 

XXII 

The  Discovery 

177 

XXIII 

The  Revelation 

180 

XXIV 

Mutual  Explanations 

184 

XXV 

Back  to  East  Looe 

190 

XXVI 

After  Eighteen  Years 

192 

XXVII 

Father  and  Daughter 

200 

XXVIII 

A  Patient     . 

207 

XXIX 

Margaret       . 

212 

XXX 

Early   Prognostications 

215 

XXXI 

The  Vagaries  of  a  Fever 

Patient        .          .         . 

218 

XXXII 

Only    a   Woman's     Love 

223 

XXXIII 

Farewell  Scenes 

230 

XXXIV 

Death  of  Catherine 

240 

XXXV 

Filled  to  Overflowing 

247 

XXXVI 

A  Resolution          .          . 

251 

XXXVII 

The  Welcome 

256 

XXXVIII 

Home,  Sweet  Home     . 

260 

illustrations 

Caroline    Croyden 


PAGE 
"  Give    up    your  dead  !    George,   my 

boy,  come  back  to  me  "     .          .  10 

"I  have  a  heart  as  well  as  this  one  "   .  42 

"A  page  had  been  abstracted  from  the 

register  of  marriages "          .          .  77 

"  I  am  sure  you  would  not  see  George 

hung,  would  you?"  .          .          102 

"  Don't  put  those  in  your  nose  or  ears, 

Madge"     ....          132 


I   know    but  one    whom  I  consider 
beautiful  and  good  " 

She  saw  her  father  kneeling  by  the 
bedside  with  his  face  in  his  hands' ' 


"  Catherine  took  his  head  in  her  lap, 
and  burst  into  teari  " 

"Then   the  little   doctor  meekly    ap- 
peared and  shook  hands ' ' 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  coast  of  Cornwall,  noted  for  its  rugged 
outline  and  precipitous  cliffs,  and  made  histor- 
ical by  the  many  disastrous  shipwrecks  that 
have  occurred  on  its  shores,  is  dotted  with 
fishing- villages  and  small  towns,  some  of  which 
have  become  famous  as  health  resorts,  besides 
possessing  the  enchantment  derivable  from 
many  an  ancient  legend;  others  again  are 
simply  what  a  cursory  glance  reveals  them  to 
be,  viz.,  the  abode  of  individuals  in  the  humbler 
walks  of  life,  who  obtain  a  livelihood  from 
the  exhaustless  fishing  grounds,  or  from  agri- 
cultural pursuits. 

Among  the  latter  is  the  village  of  East  Looe, 
in  later  years  elevated  on  the  polling  lists  to  the 
rank  of  a  township;  but  at  the  period  of  this 
story  comprising  nothing  more  than  a  modest 
fishing-village,  embodying  in  its  industries  a 
small  ship-yard,  from  which  a  few  fishing 
smacks  were  annually  launched;  a  rope- walk, 
in  which,  to  this  day,  a  solitary  hand-spinner 

vii 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

can  be  seen  perambulating  up  and  down,  spin- 
ning ropes  which  are  warranted  to  stand  all 
requisite  strain;  there  is  a  sail  loft  where  sails 
are  made  of  substantial  duck-cloth,  and  under- 
neath is  a  room  devoted  to  the  making  and 
repairing  of  nets. 

In  those  days  a  visitor  would  not  be  im- 
pressed with  the  commercial  importance  of 
East  Looe.  There  was  an  air  of  rest  about  the 
village  throughout  the  entire  week,  correspond- 
ing more  to  the  Sabbath  day  in  larger  towns; 
and  even  those  engaged  in  regular  duties  per- 
formed them  in  such  a  perfunctory  manner 
that  the  labour  usually  attending  it  seemed  to 
be  abolished.  The  very  children  wending  their 
way  to  the  little  school-house  at  the  back  of  the 
ancient  church  seemed  less  boisterous  than 
obtained  elsewhere ;  indeed  it  is  to  be  wondered 
at  how  East  Looe  ever  arose  from  its  lethargy 
to  become  enlisted  as  a  town,  only  the  wonder 
in  this  case  is  not  to  be  construed  in  a  deroga- 
tory sense ;  for  there  are  too  few  places  on  this 
globe  where  the  mind  can  find  rest  from  the 
excitement  of  the  world's  cares. 

There  was  possibly  too  much  longevity  in 
East  Looe.  The  healthful  atmosphere  and 
model  way  of  living  had  combined  to  produce 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

families  of  many  generations;  and  though  a 
doctor  was  numbered  among  its  inhabitants, 
his  ability  to  exist  was  best  known  to  himself; 
for  his  services  were  rarely  in  demand,  and 
then  only  when  the  generations  were  added  to. 

The  old  fishermen,  whose  advanced  age  pre- 
cluded them  from  following  the  arduous  occu- 
pation of  dragging  the  seines,  could  be  daily 
seen  lounging  around  the  cliffs  with  telescopes 
in  hand,  at  intervals  scanning  the  ocean,  osten- 
sibly in  search  of  schools  of  fish,  to  which  their 
offices  were  relegated ;  but  in  reality  to  witness 
some  passing  vessel,  and  to  dream  of  days  long 
floated  by. 

Beyond  the  cliffs,  approached  by  a  serpen- 
tine road  which  led  through  an  extensive  lawn 
dotted  with  clumps  of  rhododendron  and 
other  flowering  shrubs,  stood  the  old  manor- 
house  of  Croyden,  bounded  on  one  side  by  a 
pretentious  bit  of  woodland,  which  contained 
a  rookery,  without  which  no  country  residence 
was  considered  complete.  Stretching  far  into 
the  background  was  the  entailed  estate  of 
Croyden,  comprising  many  acres  of  rich  farm- 
lands, with  the  appurtenances  thereto  belong- 
ing; the  contiguity  of  which  estate  formed 
the  nucleus  of  the  village,  as  indeed  is  the 


x  INTRODUCTION 

proximity  of  similar  manors  the  creation  of  all 
the  other  towns  and  villages  on  the  coast. 

In  the  year  1867  the  very  reverend  rector 
of  the  old  parish  church  of  East  Looe  died. 
He  was  found  dead  in  an  arm-chair  in  his 
library  by  his  aged  house-keeper.  He  had  not 
complained  of  sickness,  and  consequently  the 
doctor  had  not  attended  upon  him ;  indeed,  but 
a  few  hours  previous  he  had  been  seen  totter- 
ing about  the  churchyard,  his  long,  hoary  locks 
playfully  fondled  by  the  sea  breezes;  he  had 
spoken  to  one  of  his  parishioners,  placing 
his  hand  to  his  ear,  and  exclaiming,  "  I  am 
deaf,"  as  was  his  usual  custom.  He  died  of 
the  disease  peculiar  to  East  Looe,  which  is 
made  less  shocking  to  Christian  ears  by  the 
coroner's  established  verdict  in  such  cases,  viz., 
"  Died  by  the  visitation  of  God." 

The  old  rector  was  buried  in  one  of  the  aisles 
of  the  ancient  church,  by  the  side  of  his  wife, 
who  had  not  long  preceded  him;  and  a  plain 
slab,  giving  his  name  and  age,  covers  his  grave. 


The  Baronet  Rag-Picker 

CHAPTER   I 

A  FEW   INTRODUCTIONS 

IT  was  several  months  after  the   death 
of  the  old  rector  of  East  Looe  before  his 
successor  was  appointed,  and  then  ac- 
cording to  no  law  but  that  which  is  com- 
monly   termed    hap-hazard,    the    choice    fell 
upon  my  honoured  father,  the  Reverend  Rob- 
ert Gardner,  who,  up  to  that  period,  had  been 
vicar  at  Ware.     It  transpired  that  my  father 
had  not  even  a  speaking  acquaintance  with  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden,  the  ancestral  owner  of  the 
manor  of  Croyden  aforesaid,  to  whose  choice 
the  preferment  belonged. 

I  was  surprised,  therefore,  to  receive  word  at 
my  lodging  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  London, 
from  which  bulwark  of  the  nation's  laws  I 
had  recently  received  an  official  document  en- 
grossed on  parchment,  making  known  to  all 
whom  it  might  concern,  that  Edmund  Keith 
Gardner  had  passed  a  successful  examination, 


2     THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

entitling  him  to  expound  the  laws  in  any  part 
of  her  Majesty's  dominions;  that  the  home 
of  my  boyhood  had  been  translated  into  East 
Looe,  and  that  a  hearty  welcome  awaited  me 
there. 

After  all  the  long  months  of  study,  with  its 
attendant  headaches  and  fear  for  the  result 
(for  passing  a  law-examination  is  no  sinecure) 
I,  Edmund  Keith  Gardner,  had  obtained  that 
glorious  Charter,  and  now  I  felt  limp  and  help- 
less; a  lassitude  created  by  long  days  and 
nights  of  constant  poring  over  musty  lore  had 
crept  into  my  bones,  and  not  being  likely  to 
have  even  an  hap-hazard  call,  as  sometimes 
falls  to  the  lot  of  the  clergy,  I  was  glad  to 
pack  my  few  belongings,  including  my  pre- 
cious parchment,  and  take  train  for  East  Looe. 

I  had  not  deemed  myself  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  notify  my  parents  of  my  coming, 
so  I  was  permitted  to  walk  from  the  station 
along  the  road  leading  past  the  old  manor, 
through  the  narrow  street  of  East  Looe,  which 
also  led  into  the  churchyard;  and  from  there 
I  made  an  ignominious  entry  into  the  rectory 
hall  by  tumbling  over  a  pile  of  books  which 
had  been  deposited  on  the  floor  to  await  final 
disposition. 


My  next  step  was  to  embrace  my  parents, 
who  appeared  begrimed  with  dirt,  for  they 
were  both  working  vigorously  on  the  new 
broom  theory.  Having  in  a  short  time  ex- 
hausted all  I  had  to  relate,  I  took  the  keys  of 
the  old  church  for  the  purpose  of  exploring  it. 

There  is  a  quaint  sameness  about  the  external 
appearance  of  these  ancient  churches  with  their 
effigies,  sun-dials,  and  for  the  most  part  un- 
decipherable hieroglyphics;  but  the  interior 
usually  comprehends  something  modern. 

The  old  church  of  East  Looe,  however, 
boasts  of  little  that  is  not  ancient;  the  aisles 
contained  tombs  covered  with  slabs  recording 
the  names  of  the  tenants  beneath;  the  marble 
font  in  which  the  infant  Looeite  is  baptised 
is  supposed  to  be  a  relic  of  Druidical  times; 
and  the  seats  were  old  beyond  the  conception 
of  any  of  the  inhabitants.  Quaint  inscrip- 
tions over  the  Gothic  arches  had  become  par- 
tially obliterated  by  the  over-zealous  use  of 
whitewash.  The  vestry  contained,  besides  a 
table  and  two  chairs,  a  collection  of  broken- 
backed  Bibles,  and  on  the  table  were  three 
books,  representing  the  register  of  births,  mar- 
riages and  deaths,  respectively. 

I  opened  the  books  in  succession,  and  discov- 


4     THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

ered  that  in  all  human  probability  the  registers 
would  do  service  for  many  generations  to 
come. 

In  another  day  I  had  introduced  myself  to 
the  doctor;  had  turned  the  wheel  for  the  spin- 
ner at  the  rope-walk ;  helped  to  caulk  a  boat  at 
the  ship-yard;  and  became  acquainted  with  all 
the  arts  and  sciences  practised  in  the  village. 

On  the  third  day,  to  make  the  notice  of  my 
advent  complete,  I  visited  the  manor-house. 

I  seem  to  have  remembered  this  day  beyond 
any  eventful  cause  for  so  doing;  it  has  always 
appeared  clear,  and  the  recollection  brings  a 
happiness  distinct  from  any  other  occasion. 

As  the  mansion  loomed  in  sight,  I  intuitively 
felt  the  seclusion  of  the  spot;  a  colony  of  rooks 
were  drowsily  cawing  from  the  rookery  over- 
head, otherwise  there  was  no  evidence  of  life. 

I  walked  to  the  main  porch,  and  raising  the 
huge  knocker  its  fall  resounded  throughout 
the  long  hall  as  though  in  remonstrance  at 
being  disturbed  after  years  of  idleness;  and 
to  make  this  impression  more  realistic,  a  white- 
capped  servant  girl  came  around  a  corner  of 
the  house  to  reconnoitre,  and  after  scanning 
me  with  a  wondering  look  retreated  on  a  run, 
finally  reappearing  at  the  now  open  porch- 


A   FEW  INTRODUCTIONS        5 

door,  whose  hinges  manifested  opposition  by 
creaking  dismally. 

I  presented  my  card  and  was  about  to  retire, 
when  a  middle-aged  lady,  accompanied  by  a 
beautiful  girl,  stepped  from  a  room  adjoining 
the  hallway,  and  taking  the  card,  addressed  me, 
saying : 

"  Mr.  Gardner,  we  heard  indirectly  of  your 
arrival,  and  we  are  very  pleased  to  welcome 
you  to  East  Looe,  and  to  the  mansion,  too,  for 
that  matter.  For  private  reasons,  we  have  not 
entertained  for  many  years,  but  it  does  not 
mean  that  everybody  is  not  welcome  to  its  hos- 
pitality, nevertheless.  It  is  lunch- time;  will 
you  be  good  enough  to  join  us?  This  is  my 
daughter,  Caroline  Croyden,  Mr.  Gardner." 

The  young  lady  gave  a  graceful  bow,  and 
we  entered  the  dining-room,  and  were  instantly 
joined  by  an  old  gentleman,  whom  the  elder 
lady  addressed,  saying: 

"  Father,  this  young  gentleman  is  the  rec- 
tor's son,  Edmund  Keith  Gardner,  who  intends 
practising  law;"  then  turning  to  me,  she 
said: 

'  You  are  introduced  to  Sir  Anthony 
Croyden." 

The  old  gentleman  extended  his  hand  and 


6     THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

shook  mine  cordially,  at  the  same  time  fixing 
his  eyes  intently  on  mine,  and  saying : 

"  A  lawyer,  eh !  but  you  never  intend  putting 
out  your  shingle  in  East  Looe?  " 

"  I  have  not  quite  gotten  over  the  surprise 
of  having  passed  my  examination,"  I  answered, 
"  but  I  think  well  of  settling  down  with  my 
parents,  for  a  while  at  least." 

"  It  will  never  do,"  commented  the  old 
gentleman,  "  you  are  far  too  young  to  bury 
yourself  alive  in  this  place.  How  old  are 
you? " 

"Father!"  remonstrated  the  lady. 

:<  Tut,  tut,  my  dear,"  replied  the  old  gentle- 
man, "  men,  particularly  young  men,  are  never 
any  younger." 

"  I  am  twenty- four,  Sir  Anthony,"  I  laugh- 
ingly responded. 

"Ah,  poor  George!  just  like  my  poor  dear 
George!"  and  excusing  himself,  Sir  Anthony 
walked  away,  leaving  me  with  the  ladies  to 
wonder  who  poor  George  might  be.  The  elder 
lady  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  whilst  her  daugh- 
ter put  her  arms  lovingly  around  her  mother's 
neck. 

After  lunch  I  begged  permission  to  with- 
draw, and  was  invited  to  call  at  any  time  I  felt 


A   FEW  INTRODUCTIONS        7 

so  disposed;  that  no  ceremony  was  given  or 
required. 

On  returning  homewards,  I  found  myself, 
for  want  of  more  strenuous  occupation,  deeply 
in  love  with  Caroline  Croyden,  and  imagining 
many  vain  things,  besides  building  castles  in 
the  air;  but  such  impressions  are  innocent 
enough  and  properly  belong  to  the  right- 
minded  youth ;  for  if  it  stultifies  the  growth  of 
high  business  aspirations,  it  also  prevents  un- 
holy thoughts  from  entering  and  taking 
possession. 


CHAPTER   II 

MAKING  A  STAET 

I   HAD  been  a   resident  of  East  Looe 
exactly  one  week,  and  had  made  myself 
familiar  with  all  the  delightful  walks  in 
the  neighbourhood,  as  well  as  with  the 
bays  and  coves  in  the  vicinity,  and  at  last 
decided  to  make  a  start  in  my  profession;  for 
however  much  I  had  built  castles  in  the  air  of 
becoming  great  in  expounding  the  law,  I  dis- 
covered that  dreaming  was  no  way  to  accom- 
plish it;  and  that  if  I  succeeded  even  in  a 
moderate  degree,  I  would  have  to  study  and 
practise  harder  than  during  the  period  when 
I  was  articled. 

To  carry  out  this  laudable  determination, 
therefore,  I  rented  a  small  building  located  on 
the  heights  overlooking  the  sea,  which  I  discov- 
ered had  been  used  at  one  period  of  its  history 
as  a  Bryanite  chapel;  and  at  all  times  as  a 
temporary  resting  place,  when  the  sea  gave  up 
her  dead. 


MAKING  A   START  9 

Having  obtained  possession  of  this  uncanny 
place,  I  immediately  set  at  work  to  make  it 
suitable  as  a  place  of  study. 

I  first  had  the  flooring  and  other  woodwork 
well  scrubbed,  and  the  walls  papered;  then  I 
furnished  it  with  a  ponderous  table  and  two 
chairs,  and  spread  a  few  rush  mats  around  the 
floor. 

I  piled  my  law  books  on  one  end  of  the  table 
so  as  to  make  the  place  look  as  formidable  as 
possible,  and  put  a  sign  in  the  window,  "  Ed- 
mund Keith  Gardner,  Attorney-at-law,  Deeds 
and  Wills  a  Specialty,  Hours  10  A.  M.  till 
6  P.  M." 

Providing  myself  with  several  reams  of 
paper,  I  sat  down  the  first  day  my  office  was 
fit  for  occupancy,  determined  to  make  myself 
heard  from,  if  not  to  become  great. 

I  had  as  constant  companion  a  large  wrater- 
spaniel,  and  it  stretched  itself  with  a  sigh  on 
one  of  the  mats,  and  watched  me  intently  from 
under  its  bushy  eyebrows,  playing  a  tattoo  on 
the  floor  with  its  tail,  whenever  at  long  inter- 
vals I  favoured  it  with  a  glance. 

I  have  often  thought  since  that  the  dog 
instinctively  felt,  from  his  knowledge  of  my 
peregrinations,  that  my  present  devotion  to 


10   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

work  was  only  temporary,  for  its  eyes  carried 
a  comical  expression  whenever  I  gazed  upon  it, 
and  its  tattoo  seemed  to  indicate,  "  Keep  on, 
old  fellow,  the  sooner  it  is  over  the  better  for 
both." 

The  first  day  I  wrote  unceasingly,  making 
a  draft  of  a  lease ;  the  second  day  I  wrote  until 
noon,  when  my  fingers  became  cramped ;  I  had 
overworked  myself. 

Dropping  my  pen  I  walked  to  the  door,  and 
from  there  I  strolled  towards  the  cliff,  my  dog 
running  and  barking  joyously  as  if  to  say, 
"  This  is  better,  this  is  more  natural." 

Reaching  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  I  gazed 
across  the  sea ;  a  few  ships  were  scudding  along 
under  a  stiff  breeze,  and  on  the  horizon  the 
smoke  of  a  steamer  was  faintly  visible. 

Presently  my  gaze  was  attracted  to  an  old 
gentleman  seated  on  one  of  the  large  rocks  on 
the  shore  immediately  beneath  the  cliff  on 
which  I  stood;  the  depth  at  this  point  being 
about  forty  feet.  The  tide  was  flowing  and  he 
appeared  to  be  contemplating  the  waves  dash- 
ing against  the  rock  on  which  he  sat;  finally 
he  arose  and  revealed  the  person  of  Sir  An- 
thony Croyden. 

"  Give  up  your  dead !  George,  my  boy,  come 


Give  up  your  dead!      George,  my  boy,  come  back  to  me" 


MAKING  A   START  11 

back  to  me!  "  shouted  the  old  man;  then  lifting 
his  hat  and  placing  his  hand  on  his  temples,  he 
tottered  across  the  slippery  rocks  along  the 
shimmering  pebbly  beach,  and  ascending  a 
beaten  path  to  the  cliff  above,  he  proceeded  on 
his  way  to  the  mansion. 

I  returned  to  my  office  in  a  thoughtful 
mood;  I  tried  to  resume  my  work,  but  I  had 
lost  all  interest  in  it.  The  apparition  on  the 
rock  had  opened  up  something  more  real  to  me 
than  the  morbid  study  of  law,  something  that 
suited  my  present  unsettled  state  of  mind. 

I  was  thinking  over  the  old  man's  cry,  "  Give 
up  your  dead!  "  when  I  was  startled  by  the  cry, 
"rags  and  bones!"  and  at  the  same  moment  a 
stalwart  individual  passed  the  window,  having 
two  granary  sacks  thrown  over  his  shoulders. 
I  went  to  the  door  and  gazed  after  his  retreat- 
ing figure. 

Resuming  my  seat,  my  thoughts  merged 
from  "Give  up  your  dead!"  to  "rags  and 
bones ! "  and  became  so  commingled  that  I  fell 
into  a  doze,  to  be  aroused  long  after  my  usual 
quitting  time  by  my  father  shaking  me  and 
saying,  "  Edmund,  you  are  evidently  over- 
doing your  studies ;  there  is  time  for  all  things 
under  the  sun." 


CHAPTER   III 

AN   INDIFFERENT   PROFESSION 

THERE  were  few  things  in  the  nat- 
ural course  of  events  to  disturb  the 
equanimity  of  East  Looe;  occasion- 
ally a  ship  would  be  wrecked  on  its 
treacherous  rocks,  or  the  body  of  a  drowned 
sailor  would  be  found  washed  on  the  beach, 
but  by  far  the  most  engrossing  topics  the 
inhabitants    had    indulged    in    for    many    a 
decade  were  the  sermons  of  the  new  rector, 
how  the  young  lawyer  would  obtain  a  liveli- 
hood, and  who  the  individual  who  plied  the 
calling  of  rags  and  bones  collector  might  be. 

Now  it  appeared  that  the  individual  desig- 
nated as  "  Rags  and  Bones  "  had  made  his  ad- 
vent on  the  day  of  my  arrival,  and  failing  to 
get  any  satisfaction  from  the  strange  visitor, 
the  doctor  and  several  others  had  appealed  to 
me  for  a  solution  of  his  presence,  which  I  was 
unable  to  gratify.  All  that  could  be  discov- 
ered was  that  "  Rags  and  Bones  "  had  entered 

13 


INDIFFERENT  PROFESSION    13 

the  village  and  invaded  its  narrow  streets, 
vociferating  at  intervals  the  burden  of  his 
song,  adding  occasionally,  as  though  to  relieve 
the  monotony,  "  and  doctors'  bottles." 

*/  ' 

Although  collectors  of  rags  and  bones  are 
familiar  objects  in  all  towns  of  any  appre- 
ciable size,  East  Looe  had  never  before  in  its 
history  harboured  such  a  character  within  its 
precincts;  consequently  the  presence  of  the 
present  individual  occasioned  no  small  amount 
of  gossip,  especially  in  view  of  his  taciturnity. 

It  was  several  weeks  before  the  inhabitants 
of  East  Looe  recovered  from  the  surprise  of 
this  innovation,  but  they  gradually  became 
accustomed  to  the  call  of  "  rags  and  bones  " ; 
and  its  owner  became  a  familiar  object  to  the 
villagers,  wrho  took  scrupulous  care  to  lay 
aside  cast-off  clothing  for  the  new  resident, 
for  resident  he  became,  having  selected  a  small 
cottage  above  the  cliffs.  Here  during  the  time 
that  he  was  not  engaged  in  collecting  rags 
and  bones,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  little  garden  attached  to  the  cot- 
tage, and  the  flowers  not  only  grew  in  abun- 
dance therein,  but  seemed  fresher  than  else- 
where in  the  village. 

In  most   towns   the   character   of   such   a 


14   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

strange  individual,  with  such  a  calling,  would 
have  been  investigated,  but  the  assurance  of 
the  man  saved  him  any  interference. 

On  being  asked  his  name  by  the  bailiff,  he 
answered,  "Your  rent  will  be  anticipated"; 
after  this  no  person  had  the  temerity  to  ques- 
tion him  concerning  his  antecedents,  so  he  was 
named  after  his  calling,  "  Rags  and  Bones." 

Occasionally  Rags  and  Bones  would  be 
found  walking  among  the  rocks  at  the  foot  of 
the  cliff ;  at  other  times  he  would  be  seen  gaz- 
ing at  the  waves  beating  the  shore,  and  it  was 
rumoured  among  the  gossips  that  a  figure  cor- 
responding to  his  had  been  seen  in  the  church- 
yard lying  among  the  graves  during  the 
twilight  hours;  but  the  villagers,  prone  to 
superstition,  reconciled  themselves  to  the 
belief  that  the  churchyard  was  haunted. 

It  was  significant  that  Rags  and  Bones 
never  called  at  the  mansion  to  ply  his  calling, 
although  he  was  frequently  seen  walking  in  its 
vicinity  and  gazing  across  the  lawn. 

One  day  Rags  and  Bones  was  discovered  by 
Sir  Anthony  Croyden  occupied  in  looking 
across  the  lawn,  and  with  his  granary  sacks 
thrown  carelessly  across  his  shoulders,  when 
the  old  gentleman  addressed  him,  saying: 


INDIFFERENT  PROFESSION    15 

"  Come  with  me,  man,"  and  leading  him 
around  the  mansion,  pointed  to  a  lot  of  bones 
scattered  around  the  dog-kennels,  saying: 
"  You  can  collect  all  these  bones." 

Rags  and  Bones  set  to  work  assiduously,  and 
gathered  the  bones  together  in  heaps,  and  then 
put  them  in  the  bags. 

The  old  gentleman  stood  and  watched  him, 
and  chuckled:  "  Rags  and  bones,  eh,  a  very  in- 
different calling,  but  I  suppose  somebody  must 
collect  them.  Where  did  you  come  from? " 

Rags  and  Bones  looked  at  the  old  man  curi- 
ously for  a  moment  without  answering;  then 
placing  the  bags  on  his  shoulders,  he  walked 
away. 

Sir  Anthony  watched  his  retiring  figure, 
remarking :  "  Big  fellow,  fine  form,  but  a  great 
villain,  I've  no  doubt." 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   RESCUE 

THE    days    and   weeks    were   flying 
swiftly  by,  but  no  client  put  in  an 
appearance,    and   will-making   was 
usually  neglected  until  the  breath 
was  about  to  leave  the  body;  it  was  strictly 
an   ante-mortem    affair   in    East   Looe,    for 
there  was  a  feeling  prevalent  among  the  in- 
habitants that  if  a  man  made  his  will  in  the 
blossom  of  health,  he  was  likely  soon  to  be  in 
the  paleness  of  death;  it  was  perfectly  clear, 
however,    that   those   who    made   their    wills 
around  the  vicinity  of  East  Looe  died  very 
soon  after  for  the  reason  set  forth. 

I  had  exhausted  whole  reams  of  paper  draft- 
ing forms  of  deeds  and  wills,  which  in  all  prob- 
ability would  never  be  in  requisition,  and  at  last 
I  began  to  feel  that  I  was  useless  to  the  world, 
and  looked  upon  the  parchment  I  was  once  so 
proud  of  as  a  fraud  and  a  failure. 

I  began  to  absent  myself  from  the  office, 
and  spent  my  time  in  wandering  aimlessly 

16 


THE  RESCUE  17 

about  the  shore;  first  I  put  up  a  notice  that  I 
would  be  back  at  a  certain  time,  and  took  the 
precaution  to  lock  the  door;  finally  I  omitted 
the  notice,  and  left  the  door  unlocked. 

How  long  this  condition  of  affairs  would 
have  lasted  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  it 
is  difficult  to  state,  but  what  the  resultant 
effect  on  my  subsequent  career  would  have 
been  is  not  hard  to  conjecture  were  it  not  that 
my  guardian  angel,  whoever  he  or  she  might 
be,  had  ordained  otherwise  and  created  a  turn- 
ing point  in  my  life. 

I  have  already  related  that  the  antiquated 
fishermen  of  East  Looe  were  in  the  habit  of 
lounging  around  the  cliffs,  telescoping  the  sea. 
On  this  particular  day,  which  was  delightful, 
the  air  being  filled  with  the  sweet  perfume  of 
myriads  of  wild-flowers,  the  old  fishermen  were 
out  in  force. 

I  had  visited  the  mansion  on  the  previous 
evening,  as  had  gotten  to  be  my  habitual  cus- 
tom, and  had  been  introduced  to  a  nephew  of 
Sir  Anthony  Croyden,  Newton  Bramble,  a 
young  man  a  few  years  my  senior,  who  had 
come  from  Middlesex  on  a  visit.  His  ungen- 
erous shake  of  the  hand  at  our  introduction, 
and  his  reticence  afterwards,  were  so  notice- 


18    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

able  that  I  took  a  dislike  to  him  from  the  start. 
Caroline  had  informed  me  that  her  mother 
and  herself  were  to  go  a-boating  with  this 
nephew  on  the  following  day  at  his  invitation, 
and  Caroline  regretted  that  I  was  unable  to 
accompany  them,  for  I  had  foolishly  resolved 
to  avoid  the  nephew's  society. 

During  the  afternoon  of  that  day  I  kept  to 
my  office,  leaving  the  door  open  so  that  the  sea- 
breezes  might  enter.  I  was  deploring  my 
seemingly  idle  life,  and  thinking  of  Caroline, 
when  suddenly  it  seemed  as  though  all  the  fish- 
horns  in  East  Looe  were  on  the  rampage. 

My  dog  barked,  and  springing  to  its  feet, 
scampered  across  to  where  the  old  fishermen 
had  now  congregated.  Realising  that  some- 
thing unusual  had  occurred,  I  threw  off  my 
coat,  and  ran  with  all  my  might  towards  the 
cliff,  and  as  I  sped,  a  form  rushed  by  me,  bare- 
footed and  hatless,  with  the  speed  of  the  roe, 
and  reaching  the  edge  of  the  precipice, 
bounded  forward  with  a  mighty  spring  and 
descended  like  a  meteor  among  the  rocks  and 
surf  sixty  feet  below,  to  his  death  I  thought, 
for  I  felt  that  no  man  could  plunge  from  such 
a  dizzy  height  among  such  treacherous  rocks 
without  being  mangled  to  pieces. 


THE  RESCUE  19 

A  few  hundred  feet  from  shore  I  espied  a 
capsized  boat,  and,  horror  of  horrors!  two 
female  forms  were  at  the  mercy  of  the 
waves. 

The  fishing-boats  were  moored  on  the  lee 
shore;  time  would  not  admit  of  delay,  and 
feeling  that  the  lives  of  those  in  the  waves 
depended  on  my  own  safety,  I  slid  bodily  down 
the  cliff,  catching  at  a  jagged  rock  here  and 
there,  and  finally  about  midway,  shot  out,  land- 
ing on  a  promontory  locally  known  as  the 
"Black  Rock";  and  from  thence  I  bounded 
into  the  sea,  twenty  feet  below. 

Rising  to  the  surface  I  saw  that  the  two 
females  were  still  afloat,  and  with  heart  beat- 
ing frantically  with  excitement,  I  skimmed 
the  waters;  but  fast  as  I  sped,  there  was  an 
object  before  me  which  swam  with  the  speed 
of  an  otter;  there  was  not  a  ripple  to  indicate 
his  motion,  but  that  dark  head  sped  on  and 
finally  reached  the  scene. 

The  time  seemed  ages  to  me  before  I  did 
likewise,  and  there  I  found  Caroline  Croyden 
with  her  arms  folded  around  my  dog's  neck; 
I  interposed  my  body  and  supported  her,  and 
at  the  same  moment  looking  for  the  safety  of 
her  mother,  I  discovered  her  supported  on  the 


20   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

bosom  of  Rags  and  Bones,  who  was  making 
for  the  shore,  from  which  numerous  boats  were 
now  advancing. 

Newton  Bramble,  who  had  been  clinging  to 
the  capsized  boat  without  attempting  to  ren- 
der aid,  seeing  that  the  ladies  were  saved,  pro- 
ceeded to  swim  to  shore. 

The  rescued  were  escorted  to  the  rectory  by 
my  father,  who  had  also  been  attracted  by  the 
unusual  commotion,  and  from  thence  they 
were  finally  driven  to  the  mansion,  very  little 
the  worse  for  their  immersion. 

The  little  doctor  had  attended  the  ladies  at 
the  rectory,  but  finding  his  services  unneces- 
sary, called  at  my  office,  where  Rags  and 
Bones  and  myself  had  retired  to  collect 
ourselves. 

The  doctor  placed  his  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  man  who  had  risked  his  life  so  recklessly, 
and  said:  "Nature's  nobleman." 

Rags  and  Bones  arose  from  his  chair,  and 
looking  at  me,  and  at  the  same  time  pointing 
to  himself,  said:  "I  am  simply  Rags  and 
Bones  ";  then  he  left  the  office. 

"  Strange  character,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  It's  a  strange  case,"  I  replied;  "  I  fully  ex- 
pected to  find  his  body  mutilated  on  the  rocks ; 


THE  RESCUE  21 

no  stranger  to  this  coast  could  have  avoided 
certain  death." 

"  It  came  near  clearing  out  the  entire  fam- 
ily, and  that  would  have  meant  a  change  of 
title,"  continued  the  doctor;  "  I  remember  well 
the  last  sad  case." 

"  Will  you  kindly  relate  it?  "  I  asked. 

"  Certainly.  I  had  almost  forgotten  the 
only  thing  important  to  talk  about  in  East 
Looe.  It  occurred  some  eighteen  years  ago. 
Sir  Anthony  had  an  only  son,  George  by  name. 
He  was  a  clever  sort  of  youth  as  youths  go, 
and  was  well  liked  by  everybody  in  the  village. 
All  the  pretty  girls  had  a  smile  for  him,  and  he 
returned  the  compliment,  even  to  smiling  on 
Madge  Morrill,  the  gipsy;  but  there  was 
nothing  bad  about  George,  he  loved  them  all 
simply  because  he  was  an  affectionate  fellow. 

"  Our  rector,  at  that  time,  had  an  only 
daughter,  Catherine  Penistan,  who  was  the 
pride  of  the  village.  George  fell  in  love  with 
her,  and  of  course  it  was  returned  four-fold, 
as  women  are  apt  to  do ;  but  Sir  Anthony  for- 
bade the  match,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  a  de- 
parture from  the  old  custom  of  his  ancestors 
for  the  heir  to  marry  outside  of  a  title.  The 
girl's  father,  not  wishing  to  be  a  party  to  any 


22    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

disagreement,  tried  to  persuade  George  to 
break  the  engagement,  but  finally  married 
them.  Sir  Anthony  thereupon  denied  George 
the  shelter  of  the  paternal  roof,  and  as  a  result 
the  couple  lived  at  the  rectory. 

"And  now  the  mysterious  part  of  the  affair 
comes  in.  George  and  his  wife  lived  like  two 
turtle  doves  together,  regardless  of  the  old 
gentleman's  ire,  when  suddenly  George  dis- 
appeared. There  was  evidence  pointing  to  his 
having  been  drowned,  but  his  body  was  never 
discovered.  The  facts  leading  up  to  the  sup- 
position are,  that  on  the  day  following 
George's  disappearance  the  body  of  a  well- 
dressed  stranger  was  found  on  the  shore,  and 
papers  found  on  the  body  indicated  that 
George  had  been  drowned.  The  vestry  had 
been  broken  into,  and  the  page  containing  the 
certificate  of  George's  marriage  torn  from  the 
register;  and  it  was  conjectured  that  George 
had  discovered  the  theft,  and  in  attempting  to 
arrest  the  robber,  both  lost  their  lives. 

'  The  ill-news  was  broken  to  George's  wife, 
who  took  it  so  to  heart  that  it  was  inferred  she 
tried  to  drown  herself.  She  was  found  on  the 
beach  in  an  unconscious  -condition,  and  for  a 
long  time  she  was  looked  upon  as  dead;  but 


THE  RESCUE  23 

she  recovered,  and  after  a  few  weeks  a  daugh- 
ter was  born,  and  the  mother's  sorrow  became 
modified  in  caring  for  her  child. 

"  Catherine  continued  to  live  with  her  father 
at  the  rectory  for  several  months,  until  after 
the  death  of  Lady  Croyden,  when  Sir  An- 
thony succeeded  in  persuading  her  that  it  was 
for  her  advantage  to  reside  with  him  at  the 
mansion;  and  they  appear  to  have  lived  very 
happily. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  the  accident  to-day  was 
so  splendidly  manoeuvred;  it  might  have  been 
the  most  deplorable  event  that  ever  happened 
in  East  Looe." 

"  I  hope  Rags  and  Bones  will  not  be  stub- 
born, and  refuse  any  pecuniary  assistance  Sir 
Anthony  will  certainly  offer,  but  I  feel  that 
he  will  decline,"  I  commented. 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  the  little  doctor,  and  then 
he  left  me. 


COURTSHIP   AND   DEATH 

FOR  several  days  after  the  rescue  I 
had  seen  nothing  of  the  inmates  of 
the  mansion,  and  I  had  again  set- 
tled   down    to    study,    at    intervals 
seriously   contemplating   the    advisability   of 
starting    over    again    in    some    large    town, 
when   one   day  a  knock   came   at  my   office 
door,  followed  by  the  entrance  of  Caroline 
Croyden.     Her  face  was  suffused  with  smiles, 
and  extending  her  hand,  she  said : 

"  Mr.  Gardner,  this  is  the  first  time  I  have 
felt  like  facing  the  world  again,  for  I  am  very 
much  ashamed  of  the  trouble  we  caused.  How 
can  I  thank  you  for  your  bravery?  "  and  turn- 
ing to  my  dog,  which  lay  on  the  mat,  she 
stooped  beside  it,  and  patted  it,  saying :  "  And 
you,  you  dear  doggie,  how  can  I  talk  to  you, 
you  are  so  sensible?  " 

I  made  no  answer,  but  gazed  at  the  dear  girl 
before  me,  content  to  hear  her  talk. 

84 


COURTSHIP  AND  DEATH      25 

"  Well,  sir,  are  you  going  to  scold  me  or  to 
make  out  a  bill  for  damages?  I  will  try  to  be 
content  with  either  or  both." 

"  Miss  Croyden,  I  have  nothing  to  scold  you 
for,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  have  no  bill  for  dam- 
ages. To  be  candid  with  you,  it  looks  as 
though  I  would  never  make  out  a  bill  for  any- 
thing in  this  place." 

Caroline  looked  disconcerted,  and  exclaimed : 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Gardner,  I  am  so  sorry  to  find  you 
disappointed  in  East  Looe,  but  really,  I  sup- 
pose there  is  nobody  here  who  cares  to  dispute 
the  authority  of  the  law;  but  is  there  nothing 
else  you  can  do?  I  observe  that  you  are  con- 
siderable of  an  artist." 

As  I  glanced  at  a  few  etchings  I  had  ex- 
ecuted during  my  leisure  hours,  and  hung  upon 
the  walls  of  my  office,  I  carelessly  remarked: 
"Pictures  would  go  a-begging  too,  I'm 
afraid." 

"Oh,  sir,  you  make  me  feel  very  despondent ; 
but  I  have  a  message  for  you  from  my  grand- 
father, inviting  you  to  call  upon  him  this  even- 
ing; may  we  hope  to  see  you?  " 

"Thank  you;  yes,  I  will  be  pleased  to 
call." 

"  I  am  so  glad,  for  you  haven't  called  of  late. 


26   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

And  now,  sir,  I  thank  you  a  thousa  nd  times  for 
rescuing  me  from  a  watery  grave.  You  are 
so  brave  that  I  feel  ashamed  of  my  unimport- 
ance in  the  world." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  Miss 
Croyden.  May  I  ask  if  Newton  Bramble  is 
still  at  the  mansion?  " 

"  Newton  left  the  day  after  our  marvellous 
escape,  and  without  making  a  reasonable  apol- 
ogy or  expressing  regret.  Mamma  is  dis- 
appointed in  him." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  I  hastily  remarked,  un- 
able to  hide  my  dislike  and  the  suspicion  I  had 
formed  concerning  the  accident. 

Caroline  looked  at  me  keenly  for  a  moment, 
and  finally  remarked:  "You  don't  like  my 
cousin? " 

"  No,  I  took  an  intuitive  dislike  to  him  from 
the  date  of  his  introduction,"  I  replied. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Caroline.  "  Are  you 
very  busy  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Gardner?  " 

"No,  indeed,"  I  responded;  "on  the  con- 
trary, I  am  simply  wondering  how  to  fill  in  the 
time." 

"  Will  you  accompany  me  homewards?  " 

"  Most  willingly." 

We  wended  our  steps  towards  the  mansion. 


COURTSHIP  AND   DEATH      27 

After  we  had  gone  a  short  distance,  Caro- 
line, after  some  little  hesitation,  said : 

"  Mr.  Gardner,  I  trust  you  will  not  consider 
it  a  liberty  if  I  beg  you  not  to  ignore  any 
recognition  my  grandfather  may  make  to  you 
this  evening ;  we  all  feel  so  very  much  indebted 
to  you  that  something  besides  the  mere  kindly 
feeling  must  be  displayed,  and  if  it  comes  in 
the  nature  of  employment  in  your  legal  capac- 
ity, you  might  get  to  like  East  Looe.  You 
must  not  think  that  I  have  been  instrumental  in 
suggesting  anything  for  your  benefit  because 
you  rescued  me,  because  I  know  that  no  reward 
could  be  a  substitute  for  your  own  happiness 
in  so  doing." 

"  I  shall  always  like  East  Looe,  Miss  Croy- 
den,  because  your  name  is  associated  with 
it,  and  I  will  welcome  anything  that  is 
likely  to  extend  the  opportunity  to  be  near 

you." 

If  Caroline  understood  the  meaning  of  my 
little  speech  she  did  not  betray  it,  for  she  made 
some  remark  about  the  beautiful  sky,  and  as 
quickly  turned  her  eyes  to  the  earth,  expatia- 
ting on  the  profusion  of  flowers  which  dotted 
the  sward. 

I  plucked  a  few  flowers  and  presented  them 


28   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

to  her,  and  she  acknowledged  the  act  by  bow- 
ing and  saying  they  were  very  pretty. 

Reaching  the  entrance  to  the  lawn,  I  thanked 
her  for  the  agreeable  change  the  walk  afforded, 
and  returned  to  my  office. 

That  evening  I  called  at  the  mansion  and 
was  gladly  welcomed. 

After  discussing  the  accident  briefly,  Sir  An- 
thony Croyden  inquired  how  I  was  prospering 
in  my  profession. 

I  answered  that  my  experience  had  been  so 
unsatisfactory  that  I  contemplated  quitting 
the  district  as  soon  as  I  could  discover  a  desir- 
able place  to  start  over  again. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  boy,"  responded  the  old 
gentleman,  "it  is  easier  to  build  castles  in  the 
air  than  to  realise  a  hut.  I  have  been  think- 
ing upon  a  plan  to  keep  you  out  of  mischief 
and  to  make  you  satisfied  with  East  Looe. 
The  deep  obligation  I  am  under  to  you  in  sav- 
ing my  granddaughter's  life  demands  that  I 
should  make  an  effort  in  your  behalf;  there- 
fore I  have  directed  my  butler  to  conrey  to 
your  office  two  cases  of  deeds  and  other  docu- 
ments appertaining  to  the  Croyden  estate, 
which  I  want  you  to  make  abstracts  of  so  that 
those  who  come  after  me  may  better  under- 


COURTSHIP  AND  DEATH      29 

stand  the  nature  thereof.  I  also  appoint  you 
my  land-agent.  A  yearly  income  will  be  paid 
to  you  sufficient  for  your  present  needs,  and 
you  will  be  ever  welcome  here." 

I  thanked  Sir  Anthony,  and  after  spending 
a  short  time  with  the  ladies,  started  for  my 
office  with  a  lighter  heart  than  I  had  carried  for 
many  weeks.  "  Now,"  thought  I,  "  my  castles 
are  materialising." 

The  following  day  a  cart  arrived,  and  the 
driver  deposited  two  large  tin  boxes  in  my 
office.  I  immediately  set  to  work  examining 
their  contents. 

Many  of  the  deeds  were  so  old  that  the 
parchment  had  broken  badly  at  the  folds,  and 
the  large  wax  pendant  seals  were  for  similar 
reasons  encased  in  tin  receptacles  so  that  they 
might  not  be  totally  dismembered. 

I  listed  all  the  deeds,  and  put  the  documents 
in  separate  files  according  to  their  nature;  and 
now  I  had  left  an  olla-podrida  of  memoran- 
dums and  letters,  some  of  them  yellow  with 
age. 

Among  these  papers  I  found  a  package 
which  mystified  me.  In  place  of  the  usual 
strap  used  for  securing  packages,  it  was  fas- 
tened with  a  chain,  the  ends  thereof  having 


30   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

ribbons  attached  which  formed  the  knot;  the 
papers  in  this  package  contained  memoran- 
dums which  appeared  to  have  no  reference  to 
Sir  Anthony  Croyden  or  to  the  estates.  On 
the  back  of  an  envelope  was  written  in  pencil 
the  words,  "  The  person  who  attacked  me  is 
drowned." 

After  carefully  perusing  the  contents  of  the 
package,  I  laid  it  in  one  of  the  boxes,  intending 
to  bring  the  matter  up  for  elucidation  later. 

I  had  now  been  engaged  about  two  weeks 
on  the  contents  of  the  tin  boxes,  when  word 
was  brought  to  me  that  Sir  Anthony,  who  had 
been  ailing  for  some  time,  was  confined  to  his 
bed,  very  ill. 

I  hastened  to  the  mansion,  and  conferred 
with  the  little  doctor  who  was  in  attendance; 
he  stated  that  Sir  Ajithony's  condition  was 
critical,  and  that  the  patient  was  nearing  his 
end. 

The  old  baronet  knew  that  his  time  was 
near,  and  was  deeply  troubled.  At  times  he 
would  call  mournfully,  "  George,  my  son,  come 
back  to  me.  Waves,  give  up  your  dead."  On 
such  occasions  it  was  sad  to  witness  him. 

I  was  present  for  a  short  time  at  the  old 
man's  bedside,  at  his  earnest  request,  and  he 


COURTSHIP  AND  DEATH      31 

looked  sadly  at  me,  asking  if  I  thought  his  son 
George  would  come.  I  pressed  his  hand,  say- 
ing, "He  may  come,  Sir  Anthony;"  but  of 
course  I  felt  that  the  wish  was  vain. 

Toward  the  early  evening  the  invalid  sank 
into  a  slumber,  and  I  left  the  mansion,  promis- 
ing to  return  to  renew  my  watch  in  the 
evening. 

When  I  returned  to  the  sick  man's  bedside, 
I  found  Catherine  and  her  daughter  and  the 
doctor  present.  The  old  baronet  lay  propped 
up  by  the  pillows,  his  face  wearing  a  death- 
like appearance,  yet  his  eyes  were  eager. 

"  His  mind  has  been  wandering,"  the  doctor 
stated. 

As  soon  as  the  old  man's  anxious  eyes 
detected  me,  he  beckoned  me  to  him  with  his 
trembling  hand,  and  cried  excitedly,  "  My  son, 

George,  Rags  and  Bones,  Rags ."  His 

voice  became  inaudible,  and  his  head  slid  gently 
down  the  pillows. 

I  raised  him  in  my  arms,  but  the  poor  old 
baronet's  last  breath  had  gone  out  in  the  effort 
of  calling  Rags  and  Bones. 


CHAPTER   VI 

A  WRIT  FROM   THE   COURT   OF   CHANCERY 

THE    funeral    obsequies    were    per- 
formed within  a  few  days  after  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden's  death,  and  his 
remains  were  deposited  in  the  family 
mausoleum,  built  on  a  mound  overlooking  the 
sea.     There  was  a  large  attendance  of  distant 
relatives,  and  the  entire  village  turned  out  to 
witness  the  ceremony. 

The  coffin  was  taken  from  the  mansion  to 
the  church  by  pallbearers,  comprising  old  men 
of  the  village,  and  from  the  church  to  its  final 
resting  place. 

Among  those  present  was  Rags  and  Bones. 
He  was  clothed  in  a  new  suit  of  mourning,  and 
was  by  far  the  most  conspicuous  figure  pres- 
ent. He  stood  bare-headed  in  such  a  position 
that  he  could  see  the  coffin  and  the  figures  of 
Catherine  Croyden  and  her  daughter,  who 
were  both  closely  veiled;  but  his  gaze  was  riv- 

33 


A    WRIT  FROM  CHANCERY    33 

eted  on  the  coffin,  and,  when  at  last  the  iron 
gate  of  the  mausoleum  was  closed,  and  the 
mourners  had  departed,  he  was  seen  to  loiter 
around  the  spot.  When,  later  in  the  day,  I 
strolled  to  the  place,  I  found  Rags  and  Bones 
had  clambered  over  the  railings,  and  was  seated 
in  front  of  the  locked  door.  I  asked  him  if 
he  would  be  good  enough  to  stop  at  my  office 
on  the  morrow,  that  I  had  a  sum  of  money  in 
trust  for  him  from  the  dead  squire,  and  his 
answer  came,  "  I  will  call  to-morrow." 

On  the  following  day  I  was  busily  engaged 
in  reading  the  late  Sir  Anthony  Croyden's 
will,  preparatory  to  getting  it  engrossed  for 
probate;  it  was  not  different  from  the  usual 
form  of  wills,  saving  that  there  were  several 
codicils. 

The  estate  being  entailed,  the  will  contained 
bequests  and  disposition  of  such  parts  of  his 
personal  estate  as  the  testator  desired  should 
be  given  to  his  relatives,  who  would  not  benefit 
through  the  entailment,  and  it  was  these  be- 
quests which  I  was  listing  so  that  Catherine 
Croyden,  who  was  appointed  sole  executrix, 
and  to  whom  most  of  the  personal  property 
was  bequeathed,  might  have  no  difficulty  in 
comprehending  them.  Her  daughter,  Caro- 


34   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

line,  would  eventually  come  into  possession  of 
the  estate. 

About  noon-time  I  was  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  Rags  and  Bones.  I  read  to  him  that 
portion  of  Sir  Anthony's  will  which  referred  to 
him,  viz.,  "  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  the  char- 
acter locally  known  in  East  Looe  as  Rags  and 
Bones,  the  sum  of  one  hundred  pounds  and  a 
further  annuity  of  sixty  pounds,  payable 
monthly,  together  with  the  free  rent  of  the 
cottage  which  he  now  occupies  as  long  as  he 
shall  live,  as  a  recognition  of  his  bravery  in 
rescuing  my  daughter,  Catherine  Croyden, 
from  drowning." 

As  soon  as  I  had  read  the  bequests  to  him, 
Rags  and  Bones  stated  that  he  would  take 
nothing  for  doing  what  it  was  every  man's 
obvious  duty  to  perform.  He  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  continue  any  conversation, 
and  I  soon  discovered  for  the  second  time  that 
it  was  a  hopeless  task  to  attempt  it. 

After  several  days  I  had  engrossed  the  will 
for  probating,  and  prepared  the  necessary  affi- 
davits for  Catherine  Croyden's  signature,  and 
had  decided  to  complete  the  matter  without 
further  delay,  when  my  office  door  was  gently 
opened  and  Caroline  Croyden  entered.  She  had 


A    WRIT  FROM  CHANCERY    35 

raised  her  veil,  and  her  face  revealed  a  troubled 
look,  removed  from  the  natural  sorrow  attend- 
ing her  grandfather's  death.  She  bade  me 
"  Good-morning,"  took  the  proffered  chair, 
and  then  unfolded  a  piece  of  paper  which  she 
carried  in  her  hand,  and  placed  it  before  me, 
saying : 

"  Mr.  Gardner,  mamma  was  called  upon  this 
morning  by  a  horrid  man,  who  insisted  upon 
seeing  her  personally,  and  who,  after  reading 
from  a  slip  of  parchment,  presented  her  with 
this  paper,  which  he  stated  was  a  true  copy. 
She  can't  understand  what  the  Queen  wants  of 
her,  and  has  sent  me  to  obtain  your  solution 
of  it." 

One  glance  was  sufficient  to  show  me  that 
it  was  a  writ  from  the  Court  of  Chancery, 
issued  at  the  instance  of  Newton  Bramble,  he 
being  the  son  of  Sir  Anthony  Croyden's  sis- 
ter, and  the  next  of  kin,  provided  there  was  no 
child  from  the  marriage  of  George  Croyden. 
I  realised  that  the  right  of  Caroline's  succes- 
sion to  the  estate  of  Croyden  was  to  be  con- 
tested, and  by  no  other  a  scoundrel  than  her 
cousin,  Newton  Bramble,  who  had  courted  her 
without  success,  and  possibly  done  something 
worse  in  the  hope  of  getting  possession  of  the 


36   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

estate.  Failing  in  this  he  had  applied  to  the 
Court  of  Chancery. 

I  looked  at  the  young  girl  before  me,  whom 
I  had  secretly  learnt  to  love  with  a  desperation 
beyond  that  given  by  those  whose  love  is  ac- 
cepted. I  determined  then  that  an  important 
case  was  at  last  opened  for  me,  and  that  I 
would  make  the  grand  effort  of  my  life. 

Not  wishing  to  increase  Caroline's  fears  by 
explaining  the  nature  of  the  writ,  I  begged 
leave  to  accompany  her  back  to  the  mansion  so 
that  I  could  explain  matters  to  her  mother. 

I  found  Catherine  Croyden  in  the  library, 
and,  as  she  desired  that  her  daughter  should 
know  the  worst,  I  explained  matters,  telling 
her  that  as  there  were  but  three  wreeks  to  pre- 
pare a  defence,  it  was  expedient  for  me  to 
go  into  the  matter  at  once,  if  she  was  will- 
ing to  trust  such  an  important  case  in  my 
hands. 

Catherine  Croyden  answered,  "  I  know  of 
nobody  else  who  could  undertake  it  so  well, 
and,  since  you  saved  my  daughter's  life,  I  feel 
that  you  are  the  one  who  could  save  her  patri- 
mony if  it  can  be  saved  at  all." 

I  explained  how  it  would  be  necessary  for 
me  to  get  at  some  important  information  only 


obtainable  through  asking  her  pertinent  ques- 
tions concerning  her  marriage;  and  although 
those  questions  would  revive  sorrowful  mem- 
ories, it  would  be  useless  to  proceed  with  a 
brief  without  it;  consequently  it  was  arranged 
for  me  to  call  on  the  morrow,  prepared  with  a 
list  of  questions  which  I  might  upon  mature 
consideration  deem  necessary. 

I  thereupon  left  the  mansion  and  proceeded 
to  my  office,  where  I  occupied  myself  until  a 
late  hour  in  framing  a  list  of  questions,  for  it 
was  impossible,  with  no  knowledge  of  what  the 
plea  might  be  on  the  part  of  the  claimant,  to 
anticipate  the  requirements  of  the  defence. 
It  might  be  possible  to  procure  sufficient  evi- 
dence in  the  preliminary  trial  to  quash  all 
further  proceedings,  or,  it  was  likely,  as  was 
usually  the  case,  that  the  trial  would  be  con- 
tinued interminably  until  the  estate  would  be 
swallowed  up  in  law  costs,  or  the  litigants  had 
died. 

Caroline  appeared  at  my  office  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  with  a  bouquet  of  flowers  as 
had  become  her  custom  since  her  rescue ;  it  was 
all  I  would  allow  her  to  do,  she  said,  and  I  had 
told  her  truly  that  a  single  flower  from  her 
hands  was  of  more  value  to  me  than  all  the 


38   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

world.  Caroline  laughed  at  this  statement  at 
the  time,  and  on  all  subsequent  occasions  would 
say,  "  I  have  brought  a  bunch  of  worlds."  On 
this  particular  morning,  pointing  to  a  beauti- 
ful pink  rose,  she  said,  "  Isn't  this  a  perfect 
colour,  Mr.  Gardner?" 

"  It  is  like  your  cheeks,  my  dear,"  I  replied, 
and  growing  suddenly  audacious,  I  bent  over 
and  kissed  her;  at  the  same  moment  my  heart 
fluttered  within  me,  and  I  felt  annoyed  and 
ashamed,  for  I  was  so  much  older  than 
Caroline. 

Caroline  gasped  a  little,  her  face  became 
suffused  with  blushes,  and  she  looked  at  me 
intently  and  curiously,  as  though  doubtful  of 
the  propriety  of  the  act. 

I  felt  so  mortified  that  I  hardly  dared  to 
look  at  her,  but  I  finally  mustered  courage  to 
say,  "  Miss  Croyden,  I  took  the  liberty  of  kiss- 
ing you,  because  my  heart  longed  to  do  so.  I 
promise  to  refrain  from  doing  so  again  unless 
your  heart  is  favourable  towards  it." 

Caroline  did  not  reply,  but  evidently  de- 
sired to  avoid  the  subject.  She  stooped  and 
patted  my  dog,  saying,  "Brave  dog,"  then 
arising  and  walking  towards  the  door,  she 
asked,  "  Are  you  ready  to  go  to  the  mansion?  " 


A    WRIT  FROM  CHANCERY    39 

Taking  the  list  I  had  prepared,  we  left  the 
office  and  proceeded  on  our  way  to  the  man- 
sion. We  talked  of  the  blue  sky,  the  birds  and 
the  flowers,  and  my  heart  felt  a  void,  for  I 
found  how  useless  it  was  to  think  of  love. 


CHAPTER   VII 

CATHERINE   CROYDEN's   STORY 

REACHING    the  mansion,     we  en- 
tered the  library,  where  Caroline's 
mother  immediately  joined  us,  and 
after  making  a  few  commonplace 
remarks,  requested  me  to  proceed  with  the 
business  I  had  in  hand. 

"  The  questions  will  first  refer  to  your  mar- 
riage," I  said,  thinking  that  she  might  desire 
her  daughter  not  to  be  present,  but  as  she  made 
no  comment,  I  continued,  "  You  will  excuse  me 
for  all  inquisitiveness,  but  the  case  is  so  impor- 
tant it  is  necessary  for  me  to  be  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  all  the  details  of  your  mar- 
riage, and  instead  of  propounding  the  ques- 
tions I  have  prepared,  it  would  be  better  for 
you  to  relate  those  details  as  you  know  them; 
then  if  necessary  I  can  question  you  after- 
wards." 

Catherine  Croyden  related  her  story  thus : 
"  I  was  the  only  child  of  the   Reverend 

40 


CATHERINE'S  STORY          41 

Howard  Penistan,  the  rector  of  this  parish.  I 
was  educated  and  brought  up  entirely  under 
the  supervision  of  my  parents,  and  never  hav- 
ing gone  far  beyond  East  Looe,  nor  having 
the  desire  to  do  so,  my  knowledge  of  the  out- 
side world  is  limited  to  the  information  gath- 
ered from  books. 

"  I  was  acquainted  with  most  of  the  young 
girls,  in  fact  I  might  say,  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  district,  although  beyond  a  friendly  recog- 
nition, I  was  never  in  their  company  for  any 
length  of  time,  my  predilections  for  study 
making  me  something  of  a  recluse. 

"  When  I  had  reached  my  nineteenth  year, 
George  Croyden,  only  son  of  Sir  Anthony 
Croyden,  returned  from  college.  I  had  met 
him  on  several  occasions  at  church  during  his 
previous  vacations,  but  our  acquaintance  was 
slight.  I  was  of  a  retiring  disposition,  whilst 
George  was  always  full  of  life  and  sunshine; 
he  likewise  knew  everybody  in  the  village,  and 
chatted  with  nearly  every  girl  he  met.  His 
good  nature  extended  to  frequenting  a  gipsy 
camp,  which  annually  located  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, but,  as  I  remarked,  George  was  fond  of 
everybody,  and  I  for  one  have  no  doubt  that 
his  heart  was  as  good  as  his  face. 


42    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  Coming  in  for  a  share  of  his  attentions,  I 
had  no  idea  that  anything  more  serious  was 
likely  to  occur,  but  in  course  of  time  George 
became  more  devoted;  he  left  off  gossiping 
with  the  village  girls,  and  made  frequent  visits 
to  the  rectory,  and  with  book  in  hand  he  would 
sit  under  a  tree  in  the  glebe  lands.  He  took 
tea  with  us  occasionally,  and  finally  I  discov- 
ered that  my  heart  was  in  his  keeping,  although 
one  day  I  was  rudely  shaken,  for  George  hav- 
ing neglected  his  visits  to  the  gipsy  camp,  was 
called  upon  when  we  were  together  in  the  gar- 
den, by  a  buxom  gipsy  lass,  who,  without  any 
ceremony;  exclaimed: 

"  George  Croyden,  are  you  not  coming  to 
visit  us  again?-" 

"  George  was  confused  beyond  the  power  of 
speech,  but  as  I  started  to  leave  them,  recov- 
ered himself,  and  said,  '  Catherine,  don't  go. 
I  am  innocent  of  any  wrong  doing.'  Then 
turning  to  the  gipsy,  asked,  '  Have  I  done 
aught  that  is  improper  to  you?  ' 

"  '  No  indeed,  George,'  the  gipsy  replied, 
'  but  I  miss  your  face,  it  is  different  from  that 
of  our  men ;  and  I  have  a  heart  as  well  as  this 
one,'  at  the  same  time  pointing  at  me. 

'  Well,'  answered  George,  '  you  do  me  a 


1  have  a  heart  as  well  as  this  one  " 


CATHERINE'S  STORY          43 

great  injustice;  your  visit  will  be  misconstrued, 
perhaps  mar  my  life;  please  go  home.' 

'  The  gipsy  left,  muttering  something  be- 
tween her  teeth,  and  George,  very  much 
humbled,  turned  to  me,  and  said :  '  I  suppose 
I  can  go  home  also  after  this,  but  I  had  no 
idea  that  my  happy  disposition  towards  every- 
body was  going  to  redound  to  my  discom- 
fiture.' 

"  I  pacified  him  because  I  not  only  believed 
him,  but  I  loved  him  too  well  to  cause  him  un- 
happiness;  but  it  came  nevertheless,  and  from 
an  unexpected  quarter,  for  Sir  Anthony  Croy- 
den,  on  discovering  that  we  were  engaged, 
visited  my  father,  denounced  all  the  ministers 
alive  and  dead,  and  objected  to  our  court- 
ship. 

"  I  tried  to  persuade  George  that  ours  was 
but  a  youthful  fancy,  and  that  it  was  best  to 
comply  with  his  father's  wish,  but  he  took  me 
in  his  strong  arms  and  said,  '  It  is  you  or  no- 
body'; and  after  considerable  persuasion,  the 
banns  were  called,  and  my  father  reluctantly 
married  us. 

"  Sir  Anthony  Croyden,  on  hearing  of  the 
wedding,  denied  his  son  the  shelter  of  his  roof, 
despite  the  pleadings  of  Lady  Croyden,  his 


44    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

wife,  so  we  lived  at  the  rectory.  Our  lives 
were  peaceful  and  happy,  although  George 
was  dejected  over  the  action  of  his  father. 

"  We  lived  thus  happily  together  for  a 
period  of  six  months,  Lady  Croyden  driving 
over  frequently  to  visit  us,  and  to  assure  us 
each  time  of  her  never-failing  devotion,  and 
of  her  solicitude  for  our  welfare. 

"  One  evening  I  missed  George  from  the 
rectory,  something  that  had  never  happened 
before  since  our  marriage.  I  walked  around 
the  glebe  grounds  calling  tenderly  for  him;  I 
went  into  the  churchyard,  and  finding  the 
church  door  open,  I  procured  a  lantern  and 
entered  the  old  church. 

"  I  ascended  the  spiral  steps  leading  up  into 
the  tower;  the  belfry  ropes  dangling  through 
the  ceiling  cast  their  shadows  upon  the  floor; 
ascending  another  flight,  the  huge  clock  ticked 
heavily  away  the  ever-fleeting  time.  I  looked 
among  the  old  broken  seats  deposited  in  this 
room,  but  only  disturbed  a  colony  of  mice. 
Ascending  to  the  bell-room,  the  huge  bells 
hanging  from  their  ponderous  supports  looked 
like  the  bodies  of  decapitated  Amazons,  and  it 
being  the  hour  of  ten,  the  clock-bell  rang  out 
the  hour  with  such  a  clangour  that  it  deafened 


45 

me,  and  to  this  day  I  have  associated  its  knell 
with  the  loss  of  my  husband. 

"  Another  flight  brought  me  to  the  leads  on 
top  of  the  tower.  I  gazed  around  the  little 
village,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  discern  any  form 
of  life.  I  could  hear  the  soughing  of  the  waves 
as  they  swept  the  sandy  beach.  I  waved  my 
lantern,  in  the  hope  that  my  husband  might  be 
attracted  by  it  and  come  home  to  me. 

"  I  started  to  descend,  and  becoming  ner- 
vous at  the  lonesomeness  of  the  spot;  I  sped 
down  the  spiral  steps  regardless  of  my  foot- 
ing, many  steps  at  a  time.  The  bells  seemed 
to  be  clanging  together,  and  their  resonance 
ran  off  into  weird  noises  as  though  tossed 
about  by  the  wind.  The  big  clock  ticked  right 
up  against  the  entrance  as  I  passed,  instead  of 
against  the  opposite  wall,  and  as  I  rushed 
"by  the  belfry  the  ropes  seemed  to  be  rattling 
through  the  holes  in  the  ceiling,  and  dancing 
on  the  floor;  as  when  they  are  pulled  by  the 
ringers. 

"  I  reached  the  ground  floor,  where  many  a 
drowned  sailor  had  been  temporarily  deposited 
to  await  final  identification  and  burial.  I  had 
often  witnessed  those  unhappy  scenes,  and  they 
were  all  crowded  into  my  senses  that  night.  I 


46   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

stood  still  with  fright,  peering  into  the  dark- 
ness beyond  the  meagre  light  shed  by  the 
lantern;  I  heard  sounds  like  drops  of  water 
falling  upon  the  granite  floor;  were  they  foot- 
steps? I  wondered.  Finally  I  thought  of 
George,  and  recovering  my  equanimity  I 
walked  boldly  through  the  aisles,  and  over  the 
vaults  which  contained  the  bones  of  many  a 
forgotten  knight.  Reaching  the  pulpit,  I 
passed  by  the  niches  which  contained  the  rusty 
armour  of  knights  who  had  fought  during  the 
holy  crusade;  they  appeared  to  be  in  motion, 
and  the  knights  seemed  to  inhabit  them  again 
and  frown  upon  me;  yes,  I  was  not  mistaken, 
for  on  passing  by  one  niche,  whose  rusty 
deposit  had  been  secured  by  a  cord  to  hold  its 
broken  joints  together,  it  fell  with  such  a 
crash  that  its  echo  resounded  with  a  metallic 
sound  through  the  old  gothic  arches  and  over 
the  hollow  vaults,  losing  itself  among  the  bells 
in  the  tower.  One  of  the  jointed  hands 
bounded  to  my  feet  as  though  to  lay  hold  of 
me;  I  dropped  the  lantern  in  my  fright  and 
screamed  and  screamed  again,  until  the  awful 
echoes  mocking  me,  silenced  me.  I  picked  up 
the  lantern  and  flew  into  the  vestry  room,  and 
the  night-air  rustled  the  leaves  of  an  open  book 


CATHERINE'S  STORY          47 

upon  the  table;  I  looked  up  and  saw  that  the 
window  was  badly  broken.  I  examined  the 
book;  it  was  the  register  of  marriages,  and  it 
was  open  at  the  page  corresponding  to  the 
date  of  our  marriage,  and  a  leaf  had  been 
abstracted. 

"  I,  in  some  manner,  connected  the  sacrilege 
with  my  husband's  disappearance.  I  imme- 
diately dismissed  my  fright,  and  started  to 
leave  the  church,  when  a  bat,  attracted  by  the 
light,  entered  the  broken  window  and  flickered 
around  the  lantern  and  in  my  face.  Forget- 
ting the  fallen  armour,  I  fell  over  it,  and  the 
lantern  flew  out  of  my  hand,  crashed  upon  the 
stone  floor,  and  became  extinguished.  I  was 
in  total  darkness.  I  tried  to  extricate  myself 
from  the  armour,  but  it  became  so  entangled 
in  my  skirts  that  I  no  sooner  released  one  part 
than  another  became  fastened,  and  my  fright 
returned,  for  it  seemed  as  though  one  of  the 
old  knights  was  holding  me  back;  I  tried  to 
discern  it  in  the  darkness,  but  golden  rings 
would  form  before  my  eyes  and  flicker  out. 
Finally  I  rushed  along  dragging  what  adhered 
to  me,  and  it  clanged  along  the  floor  until  I 
reached  the  churchyard,  where  I  sank  down 
half  dead  with  fright. 


48   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  Again  the  thought  of  my  missing  husband 
revived  me,  and  dragging  off  the  entangled 
armour  by  main  force,  I  ran  to  the  mansion. 

"Arriving  thither  I  plied  the  huge  knocker 
so  vigorously  that  the  dogs  howled  with 
alarm,  and  after  waiting  for  what  seemed  an 
interminable  time,  Sir  Anthony  Croyden  put 
his  head  out  of  a  window  and  interrogated 
me. 

"  I  screamed  in  reply, '  Father,  my  dear  hus- 
band has  been  missing  all  night.' 

"  I  was  weakened  with  fright  and  worry  over 
my  lost  husband,  and  I  fainted,  for  the  next 
thing  I  remember  was  discovering  Lady  Croy- 
den's  arms  around  me,  and  saying,  *  My  poor, 
dear  girl,  how  could  you  treat  her  so;  I  will 
certainly  leave  you,  Anthony,  if  you  don't 
relent  towards  her.' 

' '  My  poor  George ! '  cried  Sir  Anthony,  *  I 
intended  forgiving  him,  and  bringing  him 
back.'  Then  turning  to  the  butler  who  was 
present,  he  said :  '  Arouse  the  servants  and 
begin  a  search  along  the  shore.  I  will  go  with 
you.' 

"  I  remained  at  the  mansion  until  the  morn- 
ing had  fairly  dawned,  when  I  started  towards 
the  cliffs  to  join  the  searchers.  On  the  way  I 


CATHERINE'S  STORY          49 

espied  a  female  approaching,  and  as  soon  as 
she  came  near  I  recognised  Madge  Merrill,  the 
gipsy  girl;  and  without  giving  me  a  mo- 
ment's preparation,  she  shouted:  *  George  is 
drowned ! ' 

"  I  clasped  my  hands  to  my  heart  and 
shrieked  '  Murder ! '  I  rushed  to  the  cliffs  with 
the  speed  of  the  wind;  without  realising  the 
danger  I  slid  down  the  precipice,  striking  on 
the  Black  Rock,  from  whence  I  rolled  into  the 
sea. 

"  I  was  observed  by  the  searchers  on  the 
beach,  and  was  rescued,  but  being  unconscious 
I  knew  not  of  it  until  afterwards. 

"  I  was  taken  for  dead  to  the  rectory,  where 
I  was  confined  to  my  bed  for  several  weeks 
with  a  raging  fever.  When  I  recovered  suf- 
ficiently to  bear  the  ill  news,  I  learnt  that  the 
body  of  an  unknown  man  had  been  found  on 
the  beach,  and  sufficient  evidence  to  indicate 
that  my  dear  husband  had  been  drowned,  but 
his  body  was  never  discovered. 

'  The  birth  of  my  daughter,  some  time 
afterwards,  assisted  me  in  supporting  my  deep 
sorrow,  but  I  never  felt  satisfied  concerning 
my  dear  George's  death. 

"  George's  parents  grieved  very  greatly  over 


50   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

their  son's  loss,  and  became  greatly  attached  to 
my  daughter,  but  Lady  Croyden  did  not  long 
survive  the  shock. 

"  After  the  death  of  his  wife,  Sir  Anthony 
pleaded  so  strongly  that  we  come  to  the  man- 
sion to  cheer  his  declining  years,  particularly 
as  my  daughter  would  eventually  come  into 
possession  of  the  estate,  that  finally,  coupled 
by  my  father's  persuasion,  I  came  hither,  and 
we  have  been  comparatively  happy  up  to  the 
present  time,  when  there  is  another  occasion 
for  sorrow,  and  a  Chancery  suit  gives  rise  for 
fear. 

'  You  now  know  all,"  Catherine  Croyden 
said  in  conclusion. 

"Not  all,"  I  answered.  "Have  you  the 
marriage  certificate?" 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  I  omitted  to  state  that 
the  page  taken  from  the  register  in  the  ves- 
try room  contained  the  certificate  of  our 
marriage." 

"Oh!  dear  me!"  I  incontinently  uttered. 

Catherine  Croyden's  story  was  graphic 
enough,  and  I  had  no  occasion,  as  far  as  I 
could  see,  to  ask  but  this  one  question  concern- 
ing her  marriage  certificate. 

Her  answer  perturbed  me,  for  I  could  see 


CATHERINE'S  STORY  51 

nothing  but  difficulty  in  the  way  of  proving 
Caroline's  title. 

The  matter  was  so  important  that  I  thanked 
her,  and  expressed  my  intention  of  retiring  to 
my  office  at  once,  to  prepare  a  brief,  but  I  was 
persuaded  to  remain  for  lunch,  after  which  I 
was  ensconced  in  my  office. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

BEFORE   THE   TRIAL 

I   PONDERED    over    Catherine    Croy- 
den's  story  for  several  hours  before  I 
resolved  upon  a  plan  of  action. 
The  facts  concerning  her  marriage,  as 
related  by  herself,   were  so  evident,  that  a 
jury  would  hardly  question  its  veracity;  then 
too  the  marriage  had  finally  been  recognized 
by  Sir  Anthony  Croyden,  but  this  important 
witness  was  dead. 

It  seemed  absolutely  necessary,  in  order  to 
prove  the  title  to  the  estate,  that  the  marriage 
certificate  should  be  produced;  even  Catherine 
Croyden's  word  would  go  no  further  than  that 
of  any  other  sworn  witness,  in  the  high  Court 
of  Chancery. 

I  finally  stepped  over  to  the  church  and 
entered  the  vestry  room.  The  marriage  regis- 
ter was  kept  in  an  unlocked  chest.  I  turned 
back  to  the  date  of  George  Croyden's  mar- 
riage, and  discovered  that  the  then  officiating 

52 


BEFORE  THE  TRIAL  53 

rector,  Catherine  Croyden's  father,  had  made 
a  note  on  the  page  immediately  opposite  the 
missing  one  as  follows: 

"On  March  10,  1849,  the  vestry  window  was  dis- 
covered broken,  and  the  register,  usually  kept  in  an  oak 
chest,  was  found  opened  on  the  table  in  the  vestry  room, 
with  page  No.  73  abstracted  therefrom;  this  page  con- 
tained the  certificate  of  marriage  of  George  Croyden 
with  Catherine  Penistan,  dated  September  14,  1848;  and 
was  solemnised  by  the  undersigned. 

"  HOWARD  PENISTAN,  Rector. 

"  And  the  witnesses  to  the  marriage  were 

"  HANNAH  PENISTAN,  wife  of  HOWARD  PENISTAN. 

"  JOHN  POLLOCK,  Clerk. 
"  Who  have  subscribed  their  names  hereto. 

"  On  the  morning  following  this  discovery,  the  body  of 
a  well-clothed  man,  a  stranger,  was  found  on  the  beach 
east  of  the  Black  Rock;  he  had,  to  all  appearance,  died 
after  reaching  the  shore. 

"  Papers  found  on  the  body  indicated  his  connection 
with  the  robbery,  but  the  certificate  was  not  recovered. 

"  This  record  is  made  to  substantiate  the  marriage,  in 
case  proof  thereof  should  ever  become  necessary. 

"  Signed,  HOWARD  PENISTAN,  Rector." 

The  Reverend  Howard  Penistan,  and  both 
the  subscribing  witnesses,  were  dead,  and  al- 


54   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

though  the  memorandum  on  the  register  in 
the  rector's  own  hand- writing  might  influence 
the  jury,  still  the  prosecution  could,  and  very 
likely  would,  object  to  its  introduction. 

I  resolved,  however,  to  obtain  my  father's 
permission  to  take  the  register  along  as  an  ex- 
hibit on  the  day  of  trial. 

I  removed  the  deeds  and  other  documents 
relating  to  the  estate  from  my  office  to  the 
rectory,  as  the  safest  place  until  the  suit  was 
decided. 

There  was  nothing  further  that  I  could  do 
but  to  think  and  plan  until  the  day  of  trial. 

After  another  perusal,  I  discovered  that  the 
file  of  nondescript  papers  which  I  had  dis- 
covered among  the  deeds  contained  mystifi- 
cations, which  with  a  proper  key  might  be 
unravelled,  but  Sir  Anthony  Croyden  was 
probably  the  only  person  who  could  throw  any 
light  on  the  subject;  on  appealing  to  Catherine 
Croyden  she  knew  nothing  whatever  about 
them.  I  could  not  see  wherein  they  applied 
to  the  estate,  and  yet  there  was  a  something 
about  them  which  constantly  recurred  to  my 
thoughts. 

I  had  visited  the  mansion  daily  for  a  short 
time,  at  Catherine  Croyden's  request,  but  little 


BEFORE   THE   TRIAL  55 

was  done  or  could  be  accomplished  beyond 
what  I  had  decided  upon  at  first. 

The  days  had  slipped  by  very  swiftly.  Caro- 
line had  called  daily  with  a  fresh  bouquet  of 
flowers,  and  each  time  she  produced  the  nose- 
gay she  would  comment  with  a  serious  counte- 
nance, as  if  she  were  afraid  I  might  forget  my 
promise,  "  You  paid  for  all  these." 

I  looked  at  it  as  a  rebuke  and  felt  uncom- 
fortable. 

We  were  now  within  four  days  of  the  trial, 
and  I  had  arranged  with  Catherine  Croyden  to 
accompany  her  and  her  daughter  to  London 
on  the  morrow,  so  that  arrangements  could  be 
made  for  their  accommodation,  and  also  that  I 
might  have  ample  time  to  prepare  for  the  trial. 

I  had  put  the  papers  in  my  satchel  with  the 
register  of  marriages,  and  sat  back  in  my  chair 
in  contemplation,  when  the  door  opened,  and 
Rags  and  Bones  appeared;  he  came  forward 
and  shook  hands,  after  which  he  sat  down. 

Looking  at  me  intently  for  a  moment,  he 
said :  "  Some  time  ago  you  were  appointed  the 
medium  by  which  I  was  to  receive  a  certain 
sum  of  money.  Does  that  still  remain  in 
force? " 

I  replied,  "  Upon  your  refusal  to  accept  the 


56   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

bequest,  the  amount  was  returned  to  Catherine 
Croyden,  but  I  am  sure  there  will  be  no  diffi- 
culty in  obtaining  it  from  her." 

"  I  have  no  such  desire,"  said  Rags  and 
Bones,  "  I  simply  wanted  to — well,  never 
mind  now."  Then  placing  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  he  arose  to  go. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  I  said,  "  don't  hesitate  in  a 
matter  wherein  you  would  be  doing  a  kindness 
to  Mistress  Croyden  by  accepting  an  acknowl- 
edgment in  return  for  saving  her  life;  it  was 
only  a  few  days  ago  that  she  referred  to  the 
matter  as  very  incomprehensible  that  a  man 
in  apparently  moderate  circumstances  should 
decline  the  offer,  but  she  decided  that  you  are 
more  of  a  nobleman  than  the  surface  in- 
dicated." 

Rags  and  Bones  shook  his  head  "  Not  now, 
I  cannot,"  he  answered. 

I  followed  him  to  the  door,  offering  my 
services  in  any  way  he  desired,  but  he  left  me 
unanswered. 

Rags  and  Bones  had  no  sooner  left  the  office 
than  two  ragged  urchins,  who  were  tugging  at 
a  dilapidated  crab-pot  full  of  bones,  called  out, 
"Mister,  what'll  ye  give  for  these  bones?  say 
Rags,  what'll  ye " 


BEFORE  THE  TRIAL  57 

Upon  this  the  object  of  their  attention 
turned  around,  gazed  at  the  bones  in  a  medita- 
tive way,  and  gave  the  boys  a  silver  bit,  on 
receiving  which  they  decamped  at  full  speed; 
and  Rags  and  Bones,  after  satisfying  himself 
on  whatever  point  the  bones  had  prompted 
him,  went  on  his  way  in  the  direction  of  the 
mansion. 

Thinking  he  was  not  prepared  to  take  his 
purchase,  I  dragged  the  crab-pot  with  its  con- 
tents into  my  office,  so  that  they  would  be  safe 
on  his  return ;  they  were  well  picked  bones,  and 
my  dog  after  sniffing  around  the  basket, 
resumed  his  nap  on  the  mat  with  an  injured 
air. 

Shortly  afterwards  I  had  another  visitor  in 
Caroline  Croyden.  She  had  never  appeared 
before  without  a  bouquet,  and  as  she  entered, 
her  face  wore  a  saddened  expression. 

"Oh!  Mr.  Gardner!"  she  said  instantly  on 
entering,  "  I  am  afraid  my  entire  ignorance 
of  the  proprieties  has  made  me  appear  ridicu- 
lous. I  was  on  my  way  hither  with  a  message 
from  mamma,  that  everything  was  in  readiness 
for  the  journey,  when  I  met  Rags  and  Bones 
outside  the  gate.  He  tried  to  avoid  me,  poor 
man,  and  attributing  it  to  his  poverty,  I  made 


58    THE  BARONET  BAG-PICKER 

bold  to  call  out  to  him  as  sweetly  as  the  words 
would  admit  of,  'Rags  and  Bones.'  He  in- 
stantly stopped,  and  gazed  upon  me  with  such 
a  surprised  look,  that  I  said,  '  I  hope,  sir,  that 
I  am  not  too  bold  in  addressing  you  in  such  a 
manner,  but  neither  my  mother  nor  Mr.  Gard- 
ner have  succeeded  in  discovering  any  other 
name;  it  is  of  course  meaningless  saving  as  a 
means  of  attracting  you.' 

"  He  replied, '  My  dear  young  lady,  I  owned 
a  different  name  once,  but  through  untoward 
circumstances — some  call  it  fate — I  have 
adopted  the  profession  of  a  rags  and  bones 
collector,  and  the  name  of  my  calling  is  quite 
good  enough  for  me.' 

: '  But,  sir,'  I  replied,  '  my  grandfather,  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden,  directed  before  his  death, 
and  my  mother  only  recently  begged  Mr. 
Gardner  to  try  to  influence  you  to  accept  some 
suitable  employment  on  the  estate,  and  it 
grieves  my  mother  very  much  to  be  informed 
that  you  will  receive  no  recognition  at  her 
hands.' 

"He  answered,  'I  mean  no  discourtesy  to 
your  mother,  nor  to  you,  young  lady ;  some  day 
I  may  be  permitted  to  explain,  but  the  time  is 
not  yet.' 


BEFORE   THE   TRIAL  59 

"  Something  prompted  me  to  offer  him  the 
flowers  I  intended  for  you;  he  accepted  them 
with  a  bow,  and  crushed  them  with  both  hands 
violently  against  his  bosom,  and  I  thought  I 
heard  him  sobbing  as  he  walked  away;  he  is 
certainly  a  strange  man.  And  so  you  see,  Mr. 
Gardner,  you  are  minus  a  fresh  bunch  of 
worlds  to-day ;  and  that  reminds  me  that  in  our 
daily  visits  to  the  mausoleum,  we  always  find 
fresh  bunches  of  flowers  laid  on  both  grand- 
mamma's and  grandpapa's  tombs.  Sometimes 
they  are  wild  flowers  such  as  grow  scattered 
o'er  field  and  fen,  at  other  times  they  are  the 
cultivated  varieties ;  we  wonder  who  is  so  fond 
of  their  memories." 

At  that  moment  Caroline  espied  the  basket 
of  bones,  and  remarked:  "  Have  you  gotten  in 
a  supply  of  bones  for  Dash  during  our  ab- 
sence? " 

I  explained  to  her  that  they  were  a  recent 
purchase  by  Rags  and  Bones. 

"Isn't  it  strange?"  she  remarked.  "It  is 
cruel  to  pass  remarks,  but  I  wonder  if  he  is 
exactly  right?  He  does  not  act  nor  talk  like 
an  ordinary  man." 

I  answered,  "  It's  a  conundrum,  and  I'll  give 
it  up,  for  the  present,  at  least." 


60    THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Nothing  further  transpired  until  we  reached 
London,  and  having  seen  to  the  proper  accom- 
modation of  my  charges,  I  went  to  the  room  I 
occupied  during  my  examination  days,  and 
again  gave  myself  up  to  thinking  over  the 
coming  trial. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE   TRIAL 

A  last  the  day  for  the  trial  arrived.     I 
had  ascertained  that  the  case  was 
among  the  earliest  on  the  docket, 
and  I  escorted  my  fair  clients  early 
to  the  Courtroom  in  Chancery  Lane,  so  that 
they   could   escape   the   vulgar   gaze   of   the 
crowd,  which  from  time  immemorial  has  found 
the  Court  of  Chancery  the  chief  spot  to  gratify 
its  morbid  curiosity.     There  are  visitors  to  the 
Chancery  Court  who  have  no  connection  with 
it  as  far  as  the  cases  are  concerned,  but  who 
nevertheless  are  as  regular  in  attendance  as 
the  judges. 

The  Chancery  Court  is  a  musty  place,  and 
after  experiencing  the  sea  breezes  of  East 
Looe,  the  comparison  was  anything  but 
favourable.  The  room  looked  part  chapel, 
part  theatre,  but  without  anything  fore- 
shadowed to  warrant  the  anticipation  of 
pleasure. 

61  .  . 


62   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Catherine  Croyden  sat  very  demurely  be- 
side her  daughter,  frequently  using  a  bottle  of 
smelling  salts ;  she  had  never  been  absent  from 
East  Looe  in  her  life  before,  and  as  she  related 
after  the  trial,  she  never  wanted  to  leave  it 
again  during  the  balance  of  her  life.  She  was 
nervous,  not  knowing  whom  she  was  to  con- 
front, nor  what  questions  would  be  pro- 
pounded, and  I  was  unable  to  encourage 
her. 

As  the  hour  of  ten  drew  near  the  room 
became  densely  crowded.  Several  attorneys 
had  assembled  around  a  large  table  imme- 
diately in  front  of  the  judgment  seat,  and 
among  a  group  of  the  latter  sat  Newton 
Bramble,  Caroline's  cousin,  the  one  concerned 
in  the  boating  accident,  and  who  was  the  claim- 
ant to  the  estate  of  Croyden. 

Caroline  watched  him  for  a  moment  and 
remarked  to  me  that  if  he  succeeded  in  up- 
setting her  title  to  the  estate  as  easily  as  he  did 
the  boat,  it  would  not  take  long  to  decide  the 
case. 

"  Do  you  mean  that?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  have  thought  so  since  the  case  was  insti- 
tuted," Caroline  replied. 

"  I  wish  you  had  hinted  at  it  before,"  I  com- 


THE   TRIAL  63 

mented,  "  as  I  might  have  made  a  case  out  of 
it;  I  thought  so  all  along." 

The  cathedral  clocks  in  the  neighbourhood 
were  striking  ten,  and  precisely  at  that  hour 
the  Chancery  judge  appeared;  the  audience 
arose,  the  judge  bowed  to  the  exploiters  of  the 
law,  and  sat  down  in  a  high-backed  chair, 
which  was  surmounted  by  the  lion  and  unicorn 
upholding  a  crown. 

The  chaplain  offered  a  prayer  to  Him 
who  made  the  hearts  of  all  men,  to  bless  her 
Gracious  Majesty,  the  Queen,  and  to  imbue 
her  judges  with  wisdom  to  administer  the  laws 
of  her  realms  so  that  the  right  might  prevail, 
and  peace  and  happiness  abound. 

Then  the  court  crier  opened  the  proceedings 
of  the  day  with  the  antiquated  phrase,  "  Oyez, 
Oyez,  her  Majesty's  Court  of  Chancery  is 
now  open,  those  having  business  before  the 
Court  will  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to 
answer  when  called  upon,  the  others  are  com- 
manded to  keep  silence." 

The  judge,  arrayed  in  his  powdered  wig  and 
ermine  gown,  was  sufficiently  imposing  to  awe 
any  person  unfamiliar  with  the  modus  oper- 
andi  of  the  law,  and  Catherine  Croyden  visibly 
shook. 


64    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

The  first  case  called  was  postponed  till  the 
next  sitting,  owing  to  the  death  of  one  of  the 
litigants. 

The  second  case  was  "  Newton  Bramble 
versus  Catherine  Croyden,  and  Caroline  Croy- 
den,  a  minor." 

Immediately  one  of  the  trio  of  attorneys 
surrounding  the  claimant  arose,  and  stated 
that  the  firm  of  Hunt,  Ketchem  &  Pluck  rep- 
resented the  claimant. 

Requesting  Catherine  Croyden  to  remain 
seated,  I  stepped  forward  to  within  easy  speak- 
ing distance  of  the  judge,  and  in  a  sonorous 
voice,  stated,  "I,  Edmund  Keith  Gardner, 
have  the  honour  to  represent  the  real  owner." 

Mr.  Hunt,  who  appeared  to  be  the  harrier  of 
the  firm,  objected  to  the  words  "  real  owner" 
being  used,  on  the  ground  that  it  would  imply 
an  acknowledgment  which  they  did  not  for  a 
moment  propose  to  grant. 

The  judge  addressed  me,  saying,  "  Will  you 
change  the  sentence?"  Bowing,  I  said,  "I, 
Edmund  Keith  Gardner,  have  the  great  hon- 
our of  representing  the  defendant." 

:<  We  object  to  the  word  defendant,"  said 
Mr.  Hunt. 

I  looked  at  the  judge,  who  nodded,  evidently 


THE   TRIAL  65 

supposing  that  I  had  made  a  blunder.  I  there- 
upon said,  "  I  insist  upon  using  the  word  de- 
fendant, inasmuch  as  Catherine  Croyden,  the 
lawful  widow  of  George  Croyden,  is  the  right- 
ful owner  until  her  daughter  becomes  of 
age." 

Mr.  Hunt  protested  that  recognising  Cath- 
erine Croyden  as  the  lawful  widow  of  George 
Croyden,  and  therefore  the  rightful  owner, 
were  exactly  the  points  at  issue,  and  insisted 
that  this  sentence  be  entirely  expunged. 

Without  answering  my  opponent,  I  turned 
to  the  judge  and  said:  "  Your  Worship,  as  at- 
torney for  Catherine  Croyden  I  take  the  stand, 
as  upon  thorough  investigation  I  have  found 
it,  that  being  the  possessor  she  is  the  rightful 
owner  until  proved  otherwise." 

The  judge  replied,  "  The  mere  statement 
made  at  the  beginning  of  this  trial  that  Cath- 
erine Croyden  is,  or  combined  with  her  daugh- 
ter, are  defendant  or  defendants,  or  that  they 
are  the  rightful  owner  or  owners,  does  not  pre- 
vent the  claimant  from  disproving  it.  It  ap- 
pears to  me  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  defence 
to  cling  to  his  statement,  until  the  court  decides 
the  case." 

My  opponent  then  asked,  "  Has  Mr.  Gard- 


66   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

ner  produced  his  credentials  as  a  lawyer  able 
to  plead  in  this  court?  " 

I  thereupon  handed  my  certificate  to  the 
judge,  who,  after  examining  it,  returned  it 
with  a  bow. 

"  But  how  are  we  to  know  that  he  is  the  per- 
son named  in  the  certificate? "  asked  Mr. 
Hunt. 

"  You  will  have  ample  opportunity  to  dis- 
prove that  also,"  I  retorted. 

The  trio  of  lawyers  then  held  a  consultation 
together,  and  Mr.  Hunt  sat  down,  and  Mr. 
Ketchem  acted  as  interrogator. 

"  Your  worship,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem,  "  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden  having  recently  died  with- 
out leaving  living  issue,  we  claim  that  our 
client,  Newton  Bramble,  is  next  of  kin,  there 
being  no  authentic  proof  that  George  Croy- 
den was  married  according  to  law." 

"  Does  your  case  rest  with  this  statement?  " 
asked  the  judge. 

"  We  have  no  means  of  making  further 
claims  until  the  case  proceeds,"  answered  Mr. 
Ketchem. 

"  In  other  words,"  said  the  judge,  "  you  let 
the  burden  of  your  case  rest  on  the  defendant 
to  prove  a  marriage." 


THE   TRIAL  67 

"  To  prove  the  marriage,"  said  the  attorney. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  lesson  in  grammar," 
retorted  the  judge. 

"Mr.  Gardner,"  continued  his  Worship, 
"  will  you  act  upon  the  suggestion  given?  " 

"  Do  I  understand,  your  Worship,  that  the 
claimant's  attorneys  are  awaiting  an  oppor- 
tunity to  make  a  case  out  of  any  weakness  they 
may  discover  in  my  pleading?  " 

"  That  would  be  the  inevitable  in  any  case," 
replied  his  Worship.  "  It  remains  for  you  to 
prove  your  client's  title  to  the  estate  in  such  a 
way  as  will  baffle  the  opposite  party." 

I  replied,  "  It  appears,  your  Worship,  that  a 
case  has  been  trumped  up  against  two  defence- 
less women,  in  the  hope  that  they  will  fail  in 
producing  sufficient  evidence.  There  is  a 
mystery  attached  to  the  case  which  needs  ex- 
plaining before  the  matter  of  proof  can  be 
gone  into,  and  seeing  that  the  claimant  has  not 
been  put  on  the  stand,  and  that  his  attorneys 
have  made  no  assertions,  I  take  for  granted 
that  it  means  a  tilt  between  lawyers  to  make  a 
discovery  on  the  one  side,  or  to  prevent  it  on  the 
other  side;  if  I  have  not  fully  expressed  my- 
self, I  mean  that  I  also  can  introduce  my  case 
without  having  my  client  called  to  the  stand." 


68   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Ketchem  interrupted, 
saying  that  he  insisted  upon  calling  the  de- 
fendants to  the  stand. 

"  Now  or  later?  "  I  demanded. 

At  this  point  the  trio  of  lawyers  again  held 
a  consultation  together,  and  Mr.  Ketchem 
answered,  "  We  will  have  Catherine  Croyden 
on  the  stand  at  this  time." 

I  remonstrated:  "Your  Worship,  the  law- 
yers for  the  claimant  have  already  rested  the 
burden  of  their  case  on  me  to  prove  my  client's 
title  to  the  estate;  I  would  like  to  know  if  this 
honourable  court  recognises  their  right  to 
re-open  their  case  every  time  they  discover  a 
salient  point." 

'  We  would  like  to  ask  Catherine  Croyden 
a  few  questions,"  interposed  Mr.  Ketchem. 

'  Your  Worship,  before  I  permit  my  client 
to  be  questioned  and  cross-questioned,  I  insist 
that  the  claimant  be  placed  on  the  stand  and 
duly  sworn,  so  that  I  may  renew  the  doubtful 
pleasure  of  feeling  his  pulse." 

"Have  you  met  the  claimant  before?"  in- 
quired the  judge. 

"  We  met  before  this  trial  was  instituted,  or 
perhaps  thought  of.  The  claimant  visited 
East  Looe  ostensibly  to  make  a  friendly  call 


THE  TRIAL  69 

upon  his  cousin,  Caroline  Croyden.  His  visit 
ended  very  abruptly,  and  in  a  manner  that, 
coupled  with  the  present  suit,  indicates  it  was 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  wrest  the  estate 
of  Croyden  by  foul  means;  for  had  he  ob- 
tained the  hand  of  Caroline  Croyden,  which 
he  had  first  in  view,  it  would  have  been  as  bane- 
ful as  his  subsequent  act,  which  left  no  doubt 
as  to  his  criminal  intentions;  there  are  a  few 
incidents  in  connection  with  his  visit  that  I 
would  like  him  to  elucidate." 

'  We  object  to  our  client  being  catechised 
on  any  matter  not  appertaining  to  the  case," 
said  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  Bring  the — bring  him  forward,"  I  de- 
manded, forgetting  for  a  moment  that  I  was 
in  court. 

Newton  Bramble  came  forward  in  a  shuff- 
ling manner,  and  the  oath  was  administered. 

I  then  addressed  him,  saying:  "Newton 
Bramble,  did  you  ever  see  Miss  Caroline  Croy- 
den before  you  visited  her  at  East  Looe  some 
few  months  ago?  " 

"  Never  before,"  he  answered. 
'  Why  did  you  visit  her  on  that  occasion?  " 
'  To  make  her  acquaintance." 

"  Had  you  no  other  object?  " 


70   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  I  object  to  the  question,"  said  Mr. 
Ketchem. 

"  What  is  your  objection?  "  asked  the  judge. 

"  The  question  leads  to  the  inference  that 
there  was  another  object  beyond  that  stated," 
answered  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  I  think  the  question  is  perfectly  relevant," 
said  his  Worship ;  "  go  on,  Mr.  Gardner." 

"Had  you  no  other  object?"  I  repeated. 

"  No  definite  object,"  was  the  answer,  given 
in  a  surly  manner. 

"  Did  you  ever  have  any  experience  in  sail- 
ing a  boat  before  your  visit  to  East  Looe?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  sail  a  boat  off  the  coast,  be- 
fore you  visited  East  Looe?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  State  where." 

"  In  the  neighbourhood  of  Plymouth." 

"  Do  you  consider  yourself  expert  in  hand- 
ling a  sail-boat  at  sea?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  you  explain  why,  on  a  calm  day  like 
that  in  which  you  took  the  defendant  and  her 
daughter  in  a  sail-boat  off  East  Looe,  the  boat 
capsized?" 

The  witness  coloured  deeply,  and  for  a  few 


THE   TRIAL  71 

moments  could  think  of  no  answer;  finally  he 
said:  "The  only  answer  I  can  make  is  that  the 
boat  capsized." 

"  Do  you  consider  yourself  an  expert 
swimmer? " 

"  Reasonably  expert." 

"  When  the  boat  was  capsized  and  the  two 
ladies  thrown  into  the  sea,  how  comes  it  that 
when  I  swam  to  their  rescue,  you  were  clinging 
to  the  boat  without  offering  assistance?  " 

"  I  didn't  consider  myself  expert  swimmer 
enough." 

"  After  the  ladies  were  rescued,  you  swam  to 
shore  lively  enough,"  I  observed. 

"  How  comes  it  that  you  left  East  Looe  the 
day  following  the  episode,  without  making  an 
apology,  or  even  saying  good-bye  to  those  who 
welcomed  your  visit? " 

"  That  is  my  affair,"  he  answered. 

"  Who  prompted  you  to  institute  this  suit?  " 

Here  the  trio  of  lawyers  jumped  to  their  feet 
and  objected  to  their  client  being  questioned 
on  this  point. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Gardner,"  said  his  Worship, 
"  that  you  need  not  press  for  an  answer." 

"  Mr.  Bramble,  I  sincerely  hope  that  the 
thorns  you  have  started  on  your  youthful  vine 


72   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

to  menace  others,  will  meet  with  an  obstacle 
sufficient  to  turn  the  points  towards  your  own 
body ;  I  have  done  with  you  for  the  present." 

Then  Mr.  Ketchem  said:  "  I  ask  that  Cath- 
erine Croyden  be  called  to  the  witness  box  and 
sworn." 

I  stepped  over  to  Catherine  Croyden  and  led 
her  to  the  stand,  advising  her  to  answer  just  the 
questions  propounded,  unless  I  objected  there- 
to. Caroline  stood  by  her  side  to  encourage 
her.  A  clerk  handed  her  a  Testament,  saying 
in  one  breath  and  without  changing  the  tone  of 
his  voice:  "  Take  off  your  glove  take  the  book 
in  your  right  hand  the  evidence  you  shall  give 
before  the  court  shall  be  the  truth  the  whole 
truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth  so  help  you 
Gad  kiss  the  book." 

"  How  many  times  have  you  been  married?  " 
asked  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  Once  only." 

"  Relate  the  incidents  leading  up  to  your 
alleged  marriage." 

I  interposed  an  objection. 

"  Objection  sustained,"  said  the  judge. 

"  At  what  time  did  your  alleged  marriage 
with  George  Croyden  take  place?  " 

"  On  September  14,  1848." 


THE  TRIAL  73 

"  Did  your  parents  object  to  the  alleged 
marriage?  " 

"  My  father  was  the  rector  of  East  Looe, 
and  married  us." 

"  How  old  were  you  at  the  time  of  the 
alleged  marriage? " 

"  Nineteen  years." 

;<  What  was  the  duration  of  your  court- 
ship?" 

I  interposed  an  objection. 

"Objection  sustained,"  said  the  judge. 

At  this  point  the  lawyers  held  a  few  mo- 
ments' conversation  together,  and  examined  a 
paper. 

"  Did  you  live  happily  together  during  your 
alleged  married  life? " 

"Oh,  very  happy;  happier  than  all  the 
world." 

"  Did  your  alleged  husband's  father  object 
to  the  marriage? " 

I  interposed  an  objection  that,  the  marriage 
having  been  consummated,  the  father's  objec- 
tion would  not  change  its  validity,  George 
Croyden  being  of  age. 

The  judge  overruled  my  objection  on  the 
ground  that  subsequent  revelations  might  be 
affected  by  the  answer. 


74   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Catherine  Croyden  thereupon  answered, 
"  Sir  Anthony  Croyden  objected  to  our  mar- 
riage at  first,  but  became  reconciled  to  me  after 
— after  my  husband  became  lost  to  me;"  and 
at  this  point  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Was  there  any  offspring  from  that  alleged 
marriage?" 

"  A  daughter,"  was  the  answer. 

;<  What  was  the  date  of  that  daughter's 
birth?" 

I  objected  to  the  question  as  irrelevant. 

"  State  your  objection,"  said  the  judge. 

'  Your  Worship,  as  I  stated  at  the  opening 
of  this  case,  there  is  a  mystery  attached  to  it 
which,  unexplained,  leaves  all  answers  without 
their  true  significance ;  the  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion announces  a  fact  without  giving  an  oppor- 
tunity to  explain  the  causes  leading  up  to  it." 

Mr.  Ketchem  insisted  upon  the  question 
being  answered. 

I  appealed  to  the  court,  arguing  that 
answering  the  question  at  this  time  would  ma- 
terially destroy  the  evidence  which  would  be 
subsequently  adduced. 

The  judge  thereupon  allowed  the  question 
to  remain  in  statu  quo,  until  I  should  later 
revert  to  it. 


THE  TRIAL  75 

The  lawyers  again  consulted,  and  requested 
that  Caroline  Croyden  be  put  on  the  stand. 

The  clerk  was  about  to  pass  the  Testament 
and  repeat  his  monotonous  dirge,  when  the 
judge  leaned  forward  and  said  it  was  unneces- 
sary. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  asked  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  Caroline  Croyden." 

"  And  your  age?  " 

"  Eighteen  years." 

"  What  date  is  your  birthday?  " 

I  objected  to  this  stealthy  way  of  obtruding 
a  question  which  had  been  relegated  to  the 
rear. 

"  Your  Worship,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem,  "  ask- 
ing one  witness  a  question  and  being  tempora- 
rily overruled,  does  not  preclude  us  from 
asking  another  witness  the  same  question." 

"  It  evidently  does  not  deter  you  from  doing 
so,"  replied  his  Worship;  "  you  are  overruled." 

After  consulting  his  partners  again,  Mr. 
Ketchem  put  the  question: 

"  Have  you  a  suitor?  'J 

I  held  up  my  hand  to  Caroline  to  prevent  her 
from  answering,  and  objected  to  the  question. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  engaged?  " 

I  again  objected. 


76   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

The  judge  then  addressed  Mr.  Ketchem, 
saying,  "  The  question  has  no  bearing  in  this 
case,  but  I  sincerly  hope  that  Miss  Croyden 
has  a  suitor  who  is  worthy  of  her,  and  who  will 
faithfully  guide  and  protect  her." 

Mr.  Ketchem  thereupon  commented,  "We 
have  finished  for  the  present." 

Turning  to  me  the  judge  said,  "Now,  Mr. 
Gardner,  you  can  proceed  with  your  case." 

"  Your  Worship,  before  I  was  interrupted,  I 
began  by  stating  there  was  a  mystery  attached 
to  this  case  which  it  was  necessary  to  explain 
for  its  general  elucidation.  Being  a  compara- 
tive stranger  to  all  connected  with  the  case,  and 
even  to  East  Looe  until  very  recently,  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  unravel  it ;  and  as  many  of 
the  actors  have  left  the  stage,  are  dead  in  fact, 
the  difficulty  has  been  very  considerable. 

"  The  cardinal  points,  and  the  only  ones 
which  can  interest  the  court,  are  these: 

"  George  Croyden,  the  only  son  and  heir  of 
the  late  Sir  Anthony  Croyden,  was  married  to 
Catherine  Penistan,  only  daughter  of  the  Rev- 
erend Howard  Penistan,  rector  of  East  Looe, 
on  September  14,  1848.  The  ceremony  was 
performed  by  the  rector. 

"  Sir  Anthony  Croyden  objected  to  the  mar- 


"A  page  had  been  abstracted  from  the  register  of  marriages" 


THE  TRIAL  77 

riage,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  a  departure 
from  the  example  set  by  his  ancestors,  to  marry 
outside  of  the  baronetcy ;  but  he  relented  after 
the  loss  of  his  son. 

"  The  couple  lived  very  happily  together  at 
the  rectory  for  about  seven  months,  when  one 
night  George  Croyden  was  missed.  His  wife 
searched  the  glebe  lands  and  the  churchyard, 
finally  entering  the  church  in  quest  of  him. 
Reaching  the  vestry  room,  she  discovered  that 
the  window  had  been  broken,  and  that  a  page 
had  been  abstracted  from  the  register  of  mar- 
riages, which  lay  open  on  the  vestry  table,  in- 
stead of  being  in  its  accustomed  place  in  an 
oaken  chest. 

"  Being  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  her  hus- 
band, she  then  went  to  the  mansion  and  awoke 
Sir  Anthony  Croyden ;  and  he,  with  a  body  of 
servants,  started  for  the  shore  in  search  of  his 
son. 

"  Catherine  Croyden  became  unconscious 
from  the  efforts  of  her  fruitless  search,  but  on 
recovering  also  started  for  the  shore,  and  on 
her  way  was  met  by  a  gipsy  wench  named 
Madge  Morrill,  who,  without  any  modification 
of  words,  informed  her  that  her  husband  was 
drowned. 


78   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  Worried  beyond  her  power  to  control, 
Catherine  Croyden  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff 
overlooking  the  beach,  and  slid  down  its  almost 
precipitous  sides,  striking  the  Black  Rock,  a 
huge  boulder  immediately  below  the  cliff,  and 
rolled  into  the  sea,  from  which  she  was  res- 
cued and  taken  unconscious  to  the  rectory, 
where  she  was  confined  to  her  bed  for  several 
weeks  with  a  fever. 

"  The  body  of  George  Croyden,  supposed 
to  have  been  drowned,  was  never  found,  but 
the  body  of  a  well-dressed  man,  a  stranger, 
was  discovered  on  the  beach,  and  from  memo- 
randums found  upon  him,  he  had  evidently 
lived  a  short  time  after  having  reached  the 
shore.  These  memorandums  are  important 
as  bearing  in  an  indirect  way  on  the  theft  of 
the  leaf  from  the  marriage  register.  The 
certificate  was  never  recovered. 

"  The  parish  register,  which  I  now  produce, 
has  a  memorandum  opposite  to  the  page  suc- 
ceeding the  missing  one,  in  the  handwriting  of 
the  rector  who  officiated  at  the  wedding,  set- 
ting forth  the  facts  of  the  marriage  and  the 
theft  of  the  certificate." 

I  then  passed  the  register  to  the  judge  who 
scrutinised  it  very  carefully. 


THE  TRIAL  79 

"  Do  you  rest  your  case  upon  this  exhibit?  " 
asked  the  judge. 

"  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  do  so,"  I 
replied. 

Mr.  Ketchem  then  arose,  and  stated  that  the 
mere  fact  of  a  memorandum  having  been 
made  on  the  register,  of  an  alleged  marriage, 
was  not  proof  that  a  marriage  had  taken 
place,  as  the  signatures  of  the  parties  to  the 
marriage  were  not  subscribed. 

"  But  the  signatures  of  the  witnesses  are," 
I  replied. 

"  How  are  we  to  get  the  proof  of  that? " 
asked  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  On  Catherine  Croyden's  oath,"  I  an- 
swered. 

At  this  point  the  judge  addressed  himself 
to  the  claimant  saying :  "  Do  we  understand 
that  you  refuse  to  take  the  defendant's  word 
under  oath,  that  she  was  legally  married  to 
George  Croyden? " 

The  claimant  looked  at  his  lawyers,  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment,  then  replied  that  he 
preferred  to  accept  the  legal  version  of  the 
matter. 

His  Worship  then  turned  to  me  and  said : 

"  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  as  to  the  validity 


80   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

of  George  Croyden's  marriage  with  Catherine 
Penistan,  I  never  had  a  doubt  of  it  from  the 
beginning;  but  unfortunately,  in  order  to  sat- 
isfy the  claimant, — who  will  not  acknowledge 
his  belief  in  it, — and  the  law  itself, — which 
you  are  aware  cannot  be  modified  to  suit  the 
case, — it  is  necessary, — seeing  that  the  wit- 
nesses are  dead, — that  the  certificate  be  pro- 
duced, or  that  further  evidence  other  than  that 
presented  by  Catherine  Croyden  be  procured; 
and  an  application  for  further  time  to  enable 
you  to  obtain  such  evidence  will  be  granted 
upon  application." 

I  was  about  to  make  that  application,  when 
there  was  a  commotion  in  the  court  room,  and 
Rags  and  Bones,  who  had  evidently  been  pres- 
ent during  the  entire  proceedings,  forced  him- 
self up  to  the  witness  stand.  His  face  was 
pale  and  haggard,  and  his  hand  trembled  as 
he  drew  a  paper  from  his  bosom  and  passed 
it  to  me  saying:  "  Please  examine  that 
document." 

I  took  the  paper,  and  opened  before  my 
astonished  gaze  the  missing  page  from  the 
register. 

I  then  addressed  the  jlidge,  stating  that 
through  a  marvellous  interposition  of  Provi- 


THE  TRIAL  81 

dence,  the  stolen  certificate  had  been  recovered, 
and  I  passed  him  the  leaf. 

Rags  and  Bones  having  handed  me  the  cer- 
tificate, proceeded  to  leave  the  dock,  when  the 
judge  exclaimed :  "  Stop  that  man ! "  He  there- 
upon stood  in  the  witness  box,  with  downcast 
eyes. 

The  judge  asked  for  the  register  of  mar- 
riages, and  fitting  the  leaf  in  the  book  at  the 
mutilated  page,  was  evidently  engrossed  in 
comparing  the  writing ;  then  he  stated,  "  The 
certificate  is,  without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
the  original  one,  and  confirms  Catherine  Croy- 
den's  statement,  and  her  title  to  the  estate;" 
then  passing  the  book  back  to  me,  he  addressed 
himself  to  the  claimant,  saying  gruffly :  "  I  de- 
sire that  you  examine  the  certificate." 

The  register  with  the  certificate  having  been 
passed  to  Newton  Bramble,  he  reluctantly 
glanced  over  it ;  then  gazed  blankly  at  his  attor- 
neys, who  were  no  less  chagrined. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  why  this  case 
should  not  be  decided  against  your  client,  and 
in  favour  of  Catherine  Croyden?"  asked  the 
judge. 

"  We  would  like  to  ask  this  fellow  a  few 
questions  under  oath,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem. 


82    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

I  objected  on  the  ground  that  the  certificate 
of  marriage  having  been  produced,  annulled 
the  claimant's  suit,  and  as  far  as  this  case  was 
concerned,  it  was  at  an  end. 

"  I  sustain  your  objection,"  said  the  judge, 
"  but  the  propounding  and  answering  of  cer- 
tain questions  may  clear  up  a  mystery,  which, 
unsolved,  might  leave  room  for  future  suits." 

Hereupon  the  clerk  went  through  the  pro- 
cess of  administering  the  oath. 

"  How  came  you  in  possession  of  that  cer- 
tificate? "  asked  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  I  took  it  from  the  original  thief,"  Rags 
and  Bones  replied. 

"  At  what  time  and  place?  " 

"  On  the  night  of  the  sacrilege,  and  at  East 
Looe." 

"  Where  have  you  been  since  that  time?  " 

"  Abroad." 

"And  your  name?" 

"  Rags  and  Bones." 

"  That  may  be  your  calling,  but  we  want  the 
name  you  owned  at  the  time  of  the  robbery." 

"  It  matters  not,  the  world  is  dead  to  me," 
Rags  and  Bones  replied. 

At  this  stage  the  judge  interposed,  saying  to 
the  witness:  "  It  is  necessary  for  the  purpose 


THE   TRIAL  83 

of  settling  this  case  for  all  time,  that  the  mys- 
tery connected  with  the  marriage  certificate  be 
entirely  cleared  up ;  give  thy  name,  man ! " 

With  a  sorrowful  voice,  Rags  and  Bones 
replied,  "  I  am  George  Croyden,  the  missing 
heir  to  the  estate  of  Croyden." 

"  George  Croyden !  "  I  excitedly  exclaimed. 

Catherine  Croyden,  who  had  not  taken  her 
eyes  off  the  witness  from  the  time  he  produced 
the  certificate,  no  sooner  heard  him  aver  that 
he  was  the  lost  heir,  than  she  stretched  out  her 
arms  and  arose  to  go  to  him ;  but  the  strain  had 
been  too  much  for  her,  and  before  she  reached 
him  she  turned  deadly  pale,  fell  to  the  floor, 
and  was  taken  unconscious  into  an  anteroom. 

Order  was  restored  in  the  court  room,  and 
the  judge  summed  up  the  verdict  in  a  very  few 
words,  that  the  case  was  quashed  by  the  pres- 
ence of  the  lost  heir,  and  further,  that  had  the 
certificate  been  produced  in  any  other  man- 
ner, the  verdict  would  have  been  the  same. 

The  audience  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  result 
of  the  case  that  a  distinct  applause  was  given, 
and  the  gavel  was  rapped  to  restore  order. 

No  sooner  had  order  been  restored  than  the 
lawyers  for  the  claimant  demanded  George 
Croyden's  arrest  on  the  charge  of  murder. 


84   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  warranted  in 
making  such  a  serious  charge? "  inquired  the 
judge. 

''  We  have  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for 
so  doing,"  answered  Mr.  Hunt. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  judge,  "  I  trust  there 
will  be  sufficient  proof  to  the  contrary.  The 
manner  in  which  you  instituted  and  conducted 
the  present  case  gives  good  and  sufficient  rea- 
son for  denying  the  warrant  unless  reasonable 
proof  is  adduced  beforehand,  and  I  direct  that 
George  Croyden  be  allowed  his  freedom  whilst 
under  this  roof;  if  you  insist  upon  his  arrest, 
you  must  seek  a  warrant  elsewhere." 


CHAPTER   X 

ARREST  AND   IMPRISONMENT 

A  soon  as  the  court  had  rendered  its 
verdict,  I  asked  George  Croyden  to 
visit  his  wife  in  the  anteroom,  but 
he  answered:  "  I  cannot;  the  time  is 
not  yet." 

"  But  you  will  certainly  be  arrested  on  the 
serious  charge  of  murder,  and  it  may  be  a 
long  time  before  you  get  the  opportunity 
again." 

"  I  cannot  see  her  at  this  time,"  was  his 
reply. 

Then  I  asked  him  what  he  intended  doing, 
and  he  replied,  "I  am  going  back  to  East 
Looe." 

When  he  started  to  leave  the  court  room  I 
knew  it  was  useless  to  advise  him,  so  I  followed 
more  for  the  sake  of  seeing  what  would  become 
of  him  than  for  any  good  I  might  be  able 
to  do. 

He  had  no  sooner  reached  the  street  than 

85 


86   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

two  officers,  instructed  by  the  lawyers,  took 
hold  of  him  and  handcuffing  him,  led  him 
away. 

In  this  proceeding  I  did  not  interfere,  for  in 
such  a  serious  charge,  warrant  or  no  warrant, 
any  obstruction  from  outsiders  would  result  in 
reprisals  of  a  not  very  salutary  nature.  I  con- 
tented myself,  therefore,  by  mingling  with 
the  crowd,  and  following  George  Croyden 
to  the  criminal  court  at  the  Old  Bailey, 
where  a  warrant  was  sworn  out  in  the  names  of 
Hunt,  Ketchem  &  Pluck,  on  behalf  of  the 
commonwealth,  against  George  Croyden,  alias 
Rags  and  Bones,  for  the  murder  of  one  Ed- 
ward Marshall  at  East  Looe  on  or  about  the 
tenth  day  of  March,  1849. 

George  Croyden  was  at  once  committed  to 
prison,  bail  being  refused.  I  persuaded  him 
to  appoint  me  his  attorney,  and  I  obtained  a 
permit  from  the  committing  magistrate  to  visit 
the  prisoner  as  his  legal  adviser,  and  at  such 
times  as  the  prison  rules  permitted. 

I  then  returned  to  the  Chancery  Court  and 
found  the  court  proceedings  adjourned  for  the 
day,  the  judge  being  present  with  Catherine 
Croyden  and  Caroline,  speaking  words  of 
comfort.  He  assured  Catherine  that  courage 


ARREST  AND  IMPRISONMENT    87 

and  determination  on  her  part  were  necessary 
in  the  present  trouble,  more  than  in  the  case 
just  ended  so  favourably,  in  order  that  all 
possible  evidence  might  be  secured. 

The  judge  took  my  hand  and  said,  "  I  would 
like  to  see  more  of  you;  the  Chancery  Court 
needs  enlightenment,  but  it  will  never  be 
obtainable  from  the  darkened  characters  who 
make  a  business  of  cheating  the  law  and  the 
gospel  in  it." 

We  finally  left  the  court  room,  and  inform- 
ing Catherine  Croyden  as  gently  as  could  be 
conveyed  by  words  of  the  arrest  and  imprison- 
ment of  her  husband,  and  also  of  the  utter  im- 
possibility of  her  visiting  him  at  this  time,  we 
hastily  journeyed  back  to  East  Looe. 

Catherine  Croyden  was  in  a  deplorable  state 
of  mind,  for  the  discovery  of  her  husband,  and 
his  subsequent  arrest  on  the  charge  of  mur- 
der, had  so  shocked  her  that  it  seemed  im- 
possible for  me  to  get  her  to  discuss  the 
matter. 

To  all  my  questions  she  would  answer,  "I 
know  nothing  whatever ;  my  husband  has  been 
dead  to  me  these  eighteen  years,  and  now  that 
he  has  reappeared  it  is  to  be  cast  into  prison 
as  a  murderer.  Would  I  had  died  the  day  he 


88   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

first  became  lost  to  me,  then  I  would  have  been 
saved  all  these  years  of  sorrow." 

"  Have  a  little  more  fortitude,  I  beg  of  you, 
Mistress  Croyden,"  I  said.  "It  is  necessary 
that  I,  almost  an  entire  stranger,  should  have 
your  assistance  in  unravelling  the  case." 

I  shut  myself  in  my  office  for  two  whole 
days  with  a  sketch  of  Catherine  Croyden's 
story  before  me.  I  made  drawings  of  the 
cliffs  and  the  cove,  but  this  did  not  help  me; 
everything  that  happened  that  dark  night  was 
wrapped  in  mystery,  and  the  return  of  George 
Croyden  made  it  more  mysterious  and  cloaked 
him  with  grave  suspicion  of  guilt;  and  here, 
unfortunately,  I  confounded  his  disguise  of 
Rags  and  Bones,  together  with  his  refusal  to 
see  his  wife  after  so  long  a  separation,  as  an 
admission  of  his  guilt,  and  it  retarded  me  from 
devoting  myself  with  that  keen  interest  in  the 
case  that  a  freedom  from  these  impressions 
would  otherwise  have  stimulated. 

I  had  started  in  on  the  third  day  with  the 
intention  of  taking  a  trip  back  to  London  to 
consult  the  prisoner  as  the  only  means  of  ob- 
taining adequate  information  to  begin  my 
plea,  when  I  was  interrupted  by  the  appear-* 
ance  of  Caroline  with  a  bunch  of  worlds,  as, 


ARREST  AND  IMPRISONMENT    89 

she  still  persisted  in  calling  the  roses.  She 
bade  me  good-morning,  and  after  removing 
the  faded  worlds  that  had  remained  since  the 
day  we  started  for  London,  she  put  the  fresh 
bunch  in  the  vase. 

"  Mr.  Gardner,  I  have  grown  suddenly  old," 
she  said. 

"  I  hope  not,  Miss  Croyden,"  I  replied,  "  for 
I  want  you,  above  all  persons,  to  remain  for- 
ever young,  in  heart  at  least." 

"Unless  I  die  young,  that  can  never  be!" 
Caroline  replied. 

"Why  not?"  I  inquired. 

"  Because  there  is  too  much  trouble  in  this 
poor  old  world,"  she  answered. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  it  is  these  troubles 
that  make  us  so  much  better." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  I  know  they 
have  made  us  very  unhappy;  poor  mamma  is 
prostrated  with  grief,  she  will  scarcely  answer 
me." 

"  I  know,  Miss  Croyden,  and  it  is  useless 
for  me  to  attempt  to  relieve  her  sorrow." 

"What  can  be  done  for  papa,  do  you 
think? " 

"I  am  as  much  at  a  loss  as  yourself.  Your 
father  knows  nothing  that  will  help  him,  but 


90   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

I  am  going  to  London  to  consult  him  further. 
Have  you  any  message  to  send?  " 

"  Please  convey  my  love  to  him,  Mr.  Gard- 
ner, and  say  we  are  prostrated  over  his  im- 
prisonment." 


CHAPTER   XI 

SEEKING  EVIDENCE 

AlIVING    in    London    I    went    di- 
rectly to  the  prison,  and  entering 
George  Croyden's  cell,  I  conferred 
with  him  on  the  subject  of  obtain- 
ing evidence  to  disprove  the  murder,  but  he 
knew  nothing  whatever  beyond  what  he  related 
in  the  Chancery  Court. 

I  showed  him  the  bundle  of  papers  which  I 
had  found  among  the  deeds,  and  called  his 
attention  particularly  to  the  pencil  memor- 
andum, '  The  person  who  attacked  me  is 
drowned;"  but  he  knew  no  more  about  it  than  I 
did.  Finally  he  saw  me  replace  the  old  chain 
around  the  package  as  I  had  found  it,  and 
watching  it  intently  for  a  moment  he  held  out 
his  hand,  saying,  "  Let  me  look  at  it?  "  then  as 
he  took  off  the  chain  and  examined  it,  he  said 
in  an  undertone,  "  I  wonder  if  she  is  alive?  " 
'  Who  do  you  mean?  "  I  asked. 
"  Oh,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  thinking  aloud. 
Well,  I  am  wondering  if  Madge  Morrill,  a 

91 


92   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

gipsy  wench,  is  alive;  let  me  see,  she  must  be 
about  thirty-six  years  old;  if  she  were  pro- 
duced in  court,  knowing  that  my  life  depended 
on  her  evidence,  she  might  speak,  otherwise 
she  would  not." 

"  Where  is  she  likely  to  be,  if  alive? "  I 
inquired. 

"  Roaming  around  with  her  tribe,"  was  his 
answer. 

"  And  there  is  no  telling  where,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Possibly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  hop 
gardens  of  Kent." 

"  If  she  can  read  I  will  advertise,"  I  added. 

"  She  can  read  well  enough,  but  would  never 
get  hold  of  the  daily  papers,"  George  Croy- 
den  answered. 

"  I  will  post  notices  in  the  neighbourhood 
offering  a  reward  for  her  appearance;  better 
still,  I  will  go  there  at  once." 

"Do  as  you  please,  Mr.  Gardner,  I  cannot 
help  you,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

I  returned  to  East  Looe  and  called  upon 
Mistress  Croyden  at  once,  and  after  relating 
my  conference  with  her  husband,  stated  my 
intention  of  visiting  Kent.  She  sighed  as  I 
mentioned  the  gipsy,  and  said :  "  She  is  at  the 
bottom  of  much  of  my  sorrow;  she  it  was  who 


93 

told  me  that  George  was  drowned,  and  al- 
though she  has  visited  East  Looe  yearly,  and 
knew  the  falsehood,  she  never  relented." 

"I  remember.  Would  you  know  her?"  I 
inquired. 

"  I  have  only  seen  her  a  few  times  in  all 
these  eighteen  years,  and  the  last  time  she  was 
passing  from  the  servant's  hall,  where  she  had 
possibly  been  inventing  more  lies;  she  is  a 
brazen  hussy.  I  could  scarcely  be  depended 
upon  to  identify  her,"  Catherine  concluded. 

I  decided  to  take  a  flying  trip  to  Kent,  and 
so  eager  was  I  to  discover  the  gipsy,  that  after 
leaving  the  thickly  settled  districts,  I  watched 
from  the  train  as  it  rushed  by  the  highways  and 
byways,  to  detect  any  caravan;  and  just 
before  I  reached  my  destination,  they  became 
so  numerous  that  I  despaired  of  ever  finding 
Madge  Morrill  among  such  a  multitude. 

The  result  was  no  better  than  I  expected.  I 
spent  three  days  in  vain  inquiry.  Finally  I 
had  a  thousand  circulars  printed:  "  To  the 
gipsies:  Fifty  pounds  reward  for  the  dis- 
covery of  Madge  Morrill  who  yearly  visits 
East  Looe.  Write  or  visit  the  undersigned 
within  one  week.  Edmund  Keith  Gardner, 
East  Looe." 


94   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

I  wrote  to  Catherine  Croyden  informing  her 
of  the  result  of  my  mission,  and  that  I  would  be 
in  East  Looe  for  a  few  days  seeking  evi- 
dence. 

On  reaching  East  Looe,  I  first  visited  my 
parents,  who  had  already  been  apprised  of  the 
success  of  the  Chancery  trial,  but  who  had  not 
yet  been  fully  informed  of  the  more  serious 
phase  the  case  had  taken.  I  explained  to  my 
father,  and  his  answer  was  characteristic, 
"  To  trust  in  Providence,  and  seek  among  the 
villagers  for  evidence." 

On  the  way  to  my  office  I  called  upon  the 
little  doctor,  and  invited  him  to  call  and  join 
me  in  a  smoke.  He  readily  consented,  and 
when  our  pipes  were  lit,  I  explained  the  whole 
case  to  him. 

The  doctor  stated  that  the  joy  of  the  vil- 
lagers over  the  discovery  of  the  lost  heir  had 
been  suppressed  by  the  horrible  news  of  the 
arrest  for  murder.  "  We  were  going  to  ring 
the  bells  to  welcome  him  home;  it  is  a  bitter  dis- 
appointment to  us." 

"  But  is  there  not  one  among  the  inhabitants 
who  can  help  me?  "  I  inquired. 

"Not  one!"  exclaimed  the  little  doctor. 
"  You  see  everything  was  wrapped  in  mystery, 


SEEKING  EVIDENCE  95 

and  George  is  really  the  only  one  who  knows 
anything  about  how  it  was  done." 

"  How  what  was  done?  "  I  inquired. 

"Why!  the  murder!"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  And  you  really  think  he  did  it?  " 

;<  Who  else  could  have  done  it?  Great, 
good-natured  George ;  everybody  liked  him.  I 
don't  say  that  he  meant  to  do  it,  but  he  was  a 
giant  in  strength,  and  he  forgot  himself." 

;'  Were  there  any  marks  on  the  body  when 
found? "  I  asked. 

"  Just  finger  marks  around  the  throat,  that's 
all ;  George  squeezed  him  mighty  tight  there  I 
should  say." 

I  had  grown  angry  at  the  little  doctor — his 
manner  was  too  easy  for  my  excited  nerves, 
particularly  when  the  life  of  "  dear  George," 
as  he  styled  him,  hung  in  the  balance. 

"  Now,  doctor,"  I  began,  "  you  doubtless 
know  considerable  about  bodily  ailments,  but 
you  know  nothing  about  law ;  let  me  tell  you  it 
is  something  that  dosing  will  not  make  healthy ; 
it  is  necessary  to  go  right  down  to  the  roots  of 
the  disease,  dig  them  out,  and  hold  them  in 
your  hands  before  the  court,  and  say,  '  Here  is 
the  cause  of  the  trouble,  gentlemen  ' ;  and  then 
you  may  save  your  patients  from  being  hung, 


96   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

because  they  kill  them  in  the  blossom  of  health 
if  you  don't  get  at  the  roots." 

"  Just  so,"  said  the  little  doctor,  "  the  root  of 
all  evil." 

"  Bah!  "  I  ejaculated  with  emphasis. 

The  little  man  looked  at  me,  wondering  what 
I  meant  by  it,  then  loading  up  his  pipe  afresh, 
he  said,  "  Come  down  to  the  shore  with  me." 

I  followed  him  in  silence.  East  Looe  had 
grown  too  small  and  too  shallow,  I  thought. 

We  reached  the  cove  at  the  east  side  of  the 
Black  Rock,  and  standing  at  the  base  of  the 
cliff  facing  the  beach,  the  doctor  said,  "  It  was 
somewhere  hereabouts,  as  well  as  I  remember, 
that  I  found  the  body." 

"  Did  you  find  it?  "  I  eagerly  inquired. 

"No!  Oh!  no!  Madge  Morrill,  the  gipsy, 
found  it;  but  I  was  called  upon  as  a  profes- 
sional man  to  examine  it,  as  I  always  am,  you 
know;  examined  scores  on  and  off  around  this 
same  spot.  That's  all." 

"  That's  all ! "  I  repeated  with  disgust.  "  But 
can't  you  describe  what  you  saw?" 

"  Now  look  here,  Mr.  Gardner,  I  don't  want 
to  be  a  witness  in  this  murder  trial;  I  don't 
want  to  see  poor  George  hung,  and  his  wife 
left  a  widow  for  the  second  time." 


SEEKING  EVIDENCE  97 

"  But,  man,"  I  indignantly  protested,  "  you 
will  be  the  cause  of  it." 

"  I  would  be  no  good  as  a  witness,"  he  meekly 
responded. 

I  discovered  that  the  little  doctor's  mind  had 
become  dwarfed  to  its  surroundings,  and  that 
he  must  be  handled  another  way,  so  I  said, 
"  Look  here,  I  don't  propose  to  see  good- 
natured  George,  as  you  style  him,  hung  and  his 
wife  left  a  widow  for  all  the  doctors  in  Eng- 
land or  out  of  it,  and  unless  you  give  all  the 
information  in  your  power,  and  answer  what 
questions  I  propound  to  you,  I  will  get  my 
father  to  impeach  you  from  the  pulpit  as  an 
accessory  after  the  fact,  and  subpoena  you  to 
attend  court." 

"  Oh !  dear !  dear ! "  exclaimed  the  little  man, 
"why  was  I  ever  brought  into  the  profes- 
sion?" 

" I  don't  care  about  your  profession!"  I  re- 
plied. "  I  look  upon  you  as  an  ordinary  mortal 
now;  will  you  relate  to  me,  or  perhaps  you  had 
better  not.  I  will 

"Oh!  come  back!  Mr.  Gardner!  I'd  poison 
that  gipsy  wench  if  she  were  here;  it  was  she 
that  came  to  me  in  the  early  morning  with  the 
ill  news  that  a  corpse  had  been  washed  ashore 


98    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

in  the  cove,  so  I  rushed  thither, — I  was  younger 
then, — and  found  the  body  just  here.  It  was 
the  body  of  a  large  man  about  thirty  years 
old,  well-clothed,  with  long,  black,  curly  hair, 
natural  curls,  as  the  water  hadn't  straightened 
them  out." 

At  this  point  the  little  doctor  became  silent. 

"  Did  you  consider  at  the  time  whether  the 
man  died  from  strangulation,  or  by  drown- 
ing, or  both? " 

"  At  the  inquest  the  verdict  was  *  Found 
drowned,'  "  he  replied. 

"Was  a  record  made  of  the  verdict?"  I 
inquired. 

"Yes!  I  have  it  somewhere,"  he  answered; 
"  there  is  a  record  giving  a  full  description  of 
every  corpse  found  on  this  coast." 

"  Anything  further?  "  I  asked. 

!<  Well,  now  I  think  of  it,  the  body  hadn't 
been  long  in  the  water.  It  wasn't  swollen  like 
drowned  bodies  always  are;  in  fact,  old  Cap 
Homer  (he's  dead  now)  said,  '  That  'ere  chap 
swam  ashore  and  died  there,  or  else  he's  water- 
proof, his  mouth  is  shut,  ye  notice.'  And  so  it 
was.  I  remember  that." 

"  And  are  the  mouths  of  drowned  bodies 
always  open?  "  I  inquired. 


SEEKING  EVIDENCE  99 

"Always,"  he  answered,  "although  I  re- 
member one  that  wasn't,  but  it  had  a  rope  tied 
around  its  chin." 

"  And  what  would  your  inference  be  con- 
cerning the  fact  that  this  particular  corpse  had 
its  mouth  firmly  closed?" 

"  That  it  died  before  it  struck  the  water,"  the 
doctor  replied. 

"  But,  if  strangled  to  death,  as  your  words 
imply,  would  not  that  naturally  keep  the  mouth 
open?  " 

"  By  George !  it  looks  that  way,"  he  replied. 
'  Yes,  looking  back  at  it,  I  think  that  he  swam 
ashore  and  died  afterwards." 

"  From  the  effects  of  strangulation?  "  I  in- 
quired. 

"  I  should  say  so,"  he  answered. 

"  Was  there  nothing  found  about  the  body, 
no  papers,  for  instance,  by  which  it  could  be 
identified? " 

'Yes!  I  remember!  Yes;  they  were  taken 
from  the  gipsy  as  she  was  about  to  hide  them  in 
her  bosom.  They  were  finally  given  to  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden  after  the  inquest,  at  his 
request." 

"  Could  you  identify  those  papers?"  I  in- 
quired. 


100   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  It  is  hard  to  say,"  he  replied. 

"  Well,  doctor,  how  long  since  you  saw  the 
gipsy? " 

"  She  comes  around  here  every  year,  usually 
in  the  f  all." 

"  Do  you  know  where  to  find  her?  " 

"No!"  was  his  answer. 

I  decided  to  subpoena  the  doctor  as  one  of 
the  witnesses,  but  not  to  serve  him  until  the  last 
moment  for  fear  he  might  disappear;  and  for 
the  same  reason  I  kept  the  package  secret  lest 
it  should  assist  the  doctor  in  divining  my 
purpose. 

I  bid  the  doctor  good-day,  returned  to  my 
office,  and  jotted  down  the  information  I  had 
drawn  from  him. 

Many  of  the  antiquated  fishermen  remem- 
bered the  event,  and  expressed  their  firm  belief 
that  George  Croyden  had  strangled  the 
stranger,  as  he  deserved  to  be;  so  they  were 
more  likely  to  end  George's  life  by  their  evi- 
dence than  to  prolong  it. 

A  week  had  now  passed,  but  no  tidings  of 
the  gipsy  had  been  received,  and  I  began  to 
realise  that  the  slim  evidence  of  the  little  doc- 
tor, and  the  package  of  papers,  were  all  I  had 
to  offer;  too  scant  indeed  to  offset  the  charge. 


SEEKING  EVIDENCE         101 

I  pictured  Catherine  Croyden's  anguish  if 
the  horrible  doom  should  be  fixed,  and  I  be- 
came so  nervous  that  I  walked  to  the  cliff  and 
gazed  upon  the  stormy  sea;  for  an  east  wind 
was  blowing  the  waves  mountain  high,  and 
they  dashed  upon  the  Black  Rock  immediately 
beneath  me. 

Finally  I  stretched  myself  upon  the  ground 
and  in  this  position  I  was  confronted  by  a  fel- 
low in  gipsy  garb,  who  thrust  a  paper  into  my 
hands,  saying,  "  Knowest  thou  aught  about 
that? " 

I  jumped  up  instantly  and  exclaimed, 
'Yes!  my  dear  fellow!  yes!  Come  with  me!" 
and  beyond  in  the  road  fronting  my  office 
stood  a  span  of  horses  attached  to  a  light- 
running  gipsy  wagon. 

As  I  approached,  I  spied  a  buxom  gipsy 
woman  of  about  thirty-five  years;  her  jetty 
curls  protruded  here  and  there  from  under  a 
gaudy  handkerchief  which  served  as  head- 
gear. She  saucily  asked,  "Are  you  the  man 
who  offers  a  reward -for  a  look  at  Madge  Mor- 
rill,  the  gipsy?" 

I  replied,  "  I  am  the  man  who  offered  a  re- 
ward for  her  appearance ;  will  you  please  step 
down? " 


102    THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  Did  you  know  George  Croyden?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ask  him,"  she  answered,  at  the  same  time 
pointing  to  the  man. 

That  individual  replied,  "  We  knows  him 
well  enough!" 

"  Do  you  know  what  became  of  him? "  I 
inquired. 

"  How  should  I  know?  "  Madge  answered. 

I  saw  it  was  best  to  avoid  any  dispute  with 
her,  particularly  as  I  had  no  subpoena  for  her, 
so  I  continued: 

"  You  know,  of  course,  that  Sir  Anthony 
Croyden  is  dead." 

"  Yes." 

'  Would  you  like  to  see  George  Croyden  in 
possession  of  his  rightful  estate,  or  to  see 
strangers  steal  it  from  him?  " 

"I  don't  care  now,"  she  replied,  "  since  he," 
pointing  again  to  the  man,  "is  my  husband; 
and  I  like  him  well  enough  as  gipsy  husbands 
go.  But  there  was  a  time  when  George  Croy- 
den might  be  hung  for  all  I  would  do  for  him, 
or  her." 

"  And  I  am  sure  you  would  not  see  George 
hung,  would  you? — good-natured,  smiling 
George,  who  never  injured  anybody?  " 


1  am  sure  you  would  not  see  George  hung,  would  you  ?  " 


SEEKING  EVIDENCE         103 

"You  know  nothing  about  that!"  she 
quickly  answered. 

"  I  have  heard  so,"  I  remarked. 
'  Well,  he  was  a  mild- tempered  youth;  but 
what  is   this   about   hanging?     Has   George 
Croyden  been  heard  from?  " 

I  answered,  "  George  Croyden  has  returned 
home.  A  relative  in  the  midland  counties 
claimed  the  estate,  but  lost  the  case,  and  the 
lawyers  have  now  arrested  George  on  the 
charge  of  murder,  and  he  is  in  the  Fleet  Street 
prison.  The  case  is  to  be  tried  next  Thursday, 
and  you  are  the  only  person  who  can  save  him." 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  she  asked. 
'  You  remember  the  package?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 

"  And  you  saw  the  body  of  the  stranger?  " 

"  Is  George  charged  with  murdering  that 
fellow? " 

'  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  Well!  I  don't  know  that  it  will  do  me  any 
good  to  see  George's  face  again,  but  I  want  to 
see  London,  and  I'll  appear  on  certain  con- 
ditions." 

"  What  are  they?  "  I  eagerly  asked. 

"  That  you  will  be  responsible  for  the  safety 
of  this  team  during  our  absence;  the  horses 


104    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

must  be  carefully  exercised  daily;  that  our 
expenses  in  London,  and  to  and  fro,  be  paid; 
and  that  you  won't  call  upon  me  as  a  witness, 
although  I  will  be  present,  unless  you  find  that 
George  is  likely  to  hang  without  my  evidence." 

I  consented  to  all  this,  went  to  the  mansion 
with  them,  instructed  the  groom  regarding 
the  team,  and  arranged  at  the  village- 
inn  for  their  accommodation  until  the  follow- 
ing Monday;  then,  having  in  the  meantime 
received  a  subprena  from  the  Old  Bailey,  I  sur- 
prised the  little  doctor  into  threatening  to 
drown  himself;  but  in  a  few  hours  thereof  the 
trio  were  on  the  train  with  me  going  rapidly 
towards  London  town. 

Catherine  Croyden  and  Caroline  travelled 
in  a  separate  compartment  of  the  same  train. 

Having  reached  the  metropolis,  I  found 
lodgings  in  an  old  inn  for  the  gipsies,  in  com- 
pliance with  their  desire,  and  I  compelled  the 
doctor  to  room  with  me,  and  to  follow  me 
wherever  the  exigencies  of  the  case  required. 


CHAPTER   XII 

TRIAL  FOR  MURDER — THE  OLD  FISHERMAN'S 
EVIDENCE 

I  VISITED  George  Croyden  once  more 
in  prison,  but  he  had  nothing  further  to 
disclose,  and  seemed  desirous  of  being 
left  alone. 

Finally  the  day  fixed  for  the  trial  arrived. 
The  Court  at  the  Old  Bailey  was  filled  to 
overflowing.  There  is  a  certain  element  in 
every  large  city  which  appears  to  live  off  the 
excitement  furnished  in  the  courts  where  crim- 
inal cases  are  tried. 

Catherine  Croyden  and  her  daughter  sat 
near  the  witness  stand,  where  they  could  view 
the  face  of  him  so  long  absent,  and  who  might 
be  led  away  from  them  forever.  Catherine's 
face  was  veiled,  but  her  bent  head  indicated  her 
gloomy  forebodings. 

The  lawyers  had  so  hurried  matters  that  the 
case  was  the  first  on  the  calendar. 

The  Lord  Chief  Justice, — whose  name  we 
must  omit, — was  as  determined  a  man  as  ever 

105 


106   THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

sat  on  an  English  bench  to  mete  out  death  to 
his  fellow-mortals.  Knowing  his  record,  I  had 
little  hope  of  any  loop-hole  of  escape  that  was 
not  supported  by  facts. 

George  Croyden  was  brought  into  court 
handcuffed  to  an  officer,  who  substituted  the 
railing  for  himself  on  reaching  the  witness 
stand. 

The  proceedings  were  opened  with  prayer, 
and  the  clerk  made  the  customary  cry  of 
"Oyez,  oyez";  and  the  lawyers  who  were  the 
instigators  of  the  case, — although  Newton 
Bramble  was  present  in  the  background, — 
were  duly  sworn. 

Lawyer  Ketchem,  who  was  the  pleader  in  the 
Chancery  suit,  acted  also  in  this  case,  the  other 
two  filling  the  role  of  coadjutors. 

Mr.  Ketchem  opened  the  case  by  saying: 

*  Your  Worship,  eighteen  years  ago,  on  the 
night  of  March  10,  1849,  or  the  early  morning 
of  the  following  day,  a  cold-blooded  murder 
was  committed  on  the  shores  of  East  Looe,  in 
Cornwall;  the  body  of  one  Edward  Marshall 
was  found  on  the  beach,  and,  according  to  the 
record  kept  of  such  cases,  was  unidentified,  and 
was  buried  in  the  parish  churchyard,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  parish. 


TRIAL  FOR  MURDER         107 

"  At  the  date  of  the  discovery  of  the  body, 
George  Croyden,  heir  to  the  manor  of  Croy- 
den,  disappeared,  which  added  to  the  mystery 
attached  to  the  finding  of  the  body ;  and  it  was 
reported  at  the  time,  and  very  generally  be- 
lieved, that  George  Croyden  had  been  drowned 
— a  generous  reward  offered  for  the  finding  of 
his  body  failing  to  meet  with  its  discovery. 

"  A  case  affecting  the  hereditary  succession 
to  Croyden  estate,  in  which  we  were  employed 
as  counsel  for  the  claimant,  having  miracu- 
lously brought  George  Croyden  to  light  from 
his  long  hiding-place,  the  suspicion  of  foul 
play  became  most  strongly  directed  against  the 
prisoner  on  account  of  his  remarkable  unwill- 
ingness to  make  good  his  claim  to  the  estate, 
or  to  recognise  his  wife;  and  the  charge  of 
murder  has  been  instituted  to  carry  out  the 
divine  ordination,  that  whosoever  shed- 
deth  man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be 
shed. 

'  We  are  candid  in  stating  that  we  have  no 
witnesses  to  produce,  with  the  exception  of  one 
old  fisherman,  the  inhabitants  of  that  district 
being  very  clannish;  and  several  of  them,  on 
being  approached  by  me  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  evidence,  threatened  to  cut  me  up 


108   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

and  use  me  for  crab-bait.  The  present  witness 
was  among  that  number,  but  discovering  his 
name,  we  subpoenaed  him  and  brought  him 
hither. 

"  We  would  further  state  that  the  time  which 
has  elapsed  since  the  finding  of  the  body  ap- 
pears to  have  blurred  the  memory  of  those  who 
were  present. 

"  We  will  now  call  the  witness.  Joseph 
Rhodes,  step  into  the  witness-box." 

An  old  grey-headed  fisherman  stepped  for- 
ward and  called  out  loudly,  "  That  beant  my 
name ! " 

"  What  is  your  name,  then? "  asked  the 
clerk. 

"My  name  is  Nicholas  Stocker!" 

In  the  process  of  administering  the  oath,  on 
being  told  to  kiss  the  book,  the  old  fisherman 
indicated  his  unwillingness  to  testify  by  re- 
marking, "  I  can  tell  the  truth  without  having 
to  kiss  anything! " 

Then  Mr.  Ketchem  began  to  question  him. 

"  Nicholas  Stocker,  how  long  have  you  been 
a  resident  of  East  Looe?  " 

"  All  my  life,"  was  the  answer. 

"  How  old  are  you?  " 

"  Ninety-seven  or  so,  next  fishing-moon," 


TRIAL  FOR  MURDER        109 

"  Do  you  remember  anything  about  the  dis- 
covery of  a  body  in  the  cove  east  of  Black 
Rock,  eighteen  years  ago?" 

"  What's  thou  know  about  Black  Rock?  " 

"  Answer  my  question." 

"  I  remember  a  host  of  bodies,  on  and  off," 
replied  the  old  fisherman. 

"  I  refer  to  one  particular  body  discovered 
eighteen  years  ago,  on  the  night  George  Croy- 
den  disappeared." 

"Well!  what  about  un?"  crustily  asked  the 
old  fisherman. 

"  I  am  asking  you  what  you  know  about  it," 
spoke  up  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  All  I  know  about  un  is  that  he  were  a  thief! 
and  that  he  got  just  what  he  deserved!" 
shouted  the  old  man. 

"  We  are  not  asking  you  for  your  opinion," 
the  lawyer  testily  remarked. 

"  No !  but  ye  got  it,"  answered  old  Nicholas. 

"  What  were  you  doing  at  the  time  of  the 
discovery  of  the  body?  " 

"  I  was  in  bed,  asleep.  I  am  no  night 
prowler." 

"  Did  you  see  the  body?  " 

"  I  saw  some  of  my  comrades  carrying  it  to 
the  shanty  Maister  Gardner  now  uses  as  an 


110   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

office,  and  I  remarked,  'Pity  there  was  a  law 
against  using  him  for  bait.' ' 

"You  can  step  down!"  said' the  lawyer. 

"  I  ain't  quite  helpless,  though  I  be  ninety- 
seven  next  fishing-moon,"  rejoined  the  old  fish- 
erman. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  PRISONER'S  EVIDENCE 

THE  lawyer,  somewhat  disconcerted  at 
the  result  of  Nicholas  Stacker's  tes- 
timony, addressed  the  judge,  saying: 
"  We  have  no  alternative  but  to 
ask  the  Court  to  direct  the  prisoner  to  proceed 
with  the  explanation  of  his  disappearance  on 
the  fatal  day,  granting  us  the  privilege  of 
cross-examining  him  afterwards." 

The  judge,  who  was  nothing  if  not  severe, 
directed  that  the  prisoner  be  sworn. 

George  Croyden  took  the  Testament, 
pressed  it  to  his  lips  with  a  steady  hand,  and 
returned  it  to  the  clerk. 

I  then  addressed  the  judge,  saying,  "  Am  I 
to  understand,  your  Worship,  that  you  will 
compel  the  prisoner  to  give  information  which 
may,  through  the  absence  of  absolute  knowl- 
edge of  the  facts  by  the  prosecution,  lead  to 
his  own  conviction? " 

"  He  is  merely  required  to  explain  his  dis- 
111 


112   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

appearance  from  East  Looe  since  the  finding 
of  the  body,"  answered  the  judge. 

"  I  think,  your  Worship,  that  his  wife  has 
the  moral  and  legal  right  to  ask  that  question. 
There  is  positively  no  evidence  to  prove  that 
the  prisoner  ever  saw  the  individual  whose  body 
was  found." 

'  There  is  enough  circumstantial  evidence  to 
indicate  that  he  knows  all  about  it! "  the  judge 
tartly  answered. 

"  Your  Worship,  in  making  such  a  serious 
charge,  it  would  appear  from  all  precedent  that 
there  should  be  a  reason  advanced  for  associat- 
ing my  client  with  the  case;  there  is  usually  a 
motive  when  a  murder  is  committed.  Before 
George  Croyden  is  called  upon  to  answer  for 
his  life,  I  think  any  knowledge  which  the  prose- 
cution may  have  concerning  the  prisoner's 
guilt  should  be  introduced.  In  the  first  place, 
the  parties  whose  names  figure  in  the  prosecu- 
tion, believing  George  Croyden  to  be  dead,  and 
knowing  that  the  record  of  the  marriage  had 
been  stolen  from  the  register,  instituted  a  suit 
on  behalf  of  one  Newton  Bramble,  as  claimant 
to  the  estate  of  Croyden ;  and  the  production  of 
the  certificate  frustrated  their  designs. 

"  Now,  I  would  ask,  how  comes  it  that  these 


THE  PRISONER'S  EVIDENCE      113 

men,  living  so  far  away  from  East  Looe,  are  so 
familiar  with  the  facts  concerning  the  finding 
of  the  body,  even  to  knowing  the  name  of  the 
individual,  something  not  before  obtainable; 
and  also  what  connection  they  had  with  the 
theft  of  the  certificate? " 

The  lawyers  conferred,  and  Mr.  Ketchem 
replied  that  they  were  not  on  trial;  that  such 
questions  might  possibly  be  permissible  later  in 
the  trial,  but  at  this  stage  they  would  materially 
strengthen  the  prisoner's  defence. 

"  Am  I  to  understand,  your  Worship,  that 
the  prisoner  is  put  on  his  defence?" 

The  judge  replied,  "  The  allegation  as  set 
forth  is  sufficient  reason  in  such  a  charge." 

Knowing  that  it  was  no  use  to  take  an 
exception  to  his  Worship's  ruling,  I  turned  to 
the  prisoner  and  said  in  an  undertone,  "  You 
are  on  trial  for  your  life.  For  your  wife's 
sake,  who  is  well-nigh  frantic  with  grief,  and 
for  your  daughter's  honour,  who  is  to  live  after 
you,  arouse  yourself  and  make  the  effort  of 
your  life.  The  sun  will  shine  brighter  upon 
your  future  life  after  these  dark  clouds  are 
swept  away.  Give  a  succinct  account  of  your 
doings  since  the  fatal  day." 

Thus  adjured,  George  Croyden  looked  at 


114   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

the  judge,  and  intuitively  feeling  that  there 
was  no  sympathy  to  be  derived  from  that  quar- 
ter, he  turned  around  and  faced  the  jury. 

He  began  slowly  at  first,  as  though  the  re- 
membrance of  that  fatal  day  was  painful  to 
him;  but  he  soon  warmed  up  to  a  relation  of 
his  doings. 

"  My  name  is  George  Croyden,  only  son  of 
the  late  Sir  .^thony  Croyden,  of  the  manor  of 
Croyden,  in  the  parish  of  East  Looe. 

"  After  I  had  left  college,  having  no  profes- 
sion or  fixed  occupation  beyond  that  of  follow- 
ing in  my  father's  footsteps  as  the  possessor  of 
Croyden  Manor,  I  roamed  about  the  estate  and 
surrounding  country,  whiling  the  time  away  in 
contemplation,  as  is  the  custom  of  young  men 
in  similar  circumstances. 

"  At  the  age  of  twenty-three  years  I  became 
enamoured  of  Catherine  Penistan,  only  daugh- 
ter of  the  Reverend  Howard  Penistan,  then 
rector  of  East  Looe ;  and  against  the  wishes  of 
my  father,  we  were  married. 

"We  lived  very  happily  together  at  the  rec- 
tory, my  mother  visiting  us  frequently. 

"  One  evening,  about  seven  months  after  our 
marriage,  as  I  was  strolling  about  the  rectory 
grounds,  I  saw  a  light  flash  in  the  vestry  room 


THE  PRISONER'S  EVIDENCE      115 

of  the  church,  which  is  not  far  distant  from  the 
rectory,  and  without  stopping  to  notify  my 
wife,  I  hastened  thither,  and  looking  through 
the  vestry  window,  I  saw  a  strange  man  in  the 
act  of  abstracting  a  leaf  from  a  book  which  lay 
on  the  table.  Without  reflecting  upon  the 
damage  I  might  do,  but  realising  that  the  rob- 
bery was  a  sacrilege,  I  took  a  stone  from  the 
wall  forming  the  boundary  of  the  churchyard, 
and  hurled  it  through  the  window.  An  iron  bar 
to  which  the  leaded  window  was  secured  di- 
verted the  stone  so  that  it  missed  my  aim.  The 
stranger  rapidly  folded  the  abstracted  leaf, 
and  placing  it  in  his  bosom,  seized  the  dark  lan- 
tern which  was  on  the  table,  and  fled  the  room. 
Hastening  around  to  intercept  him,  the 
stranger  eluded  me  by  hiding  in  one  of  the 
pews,  and  escaped  through  a  side  door  of  the 
church  immediately  after  I  had  entered.  I 
followed  in  pursuit,  but  the  spot  being  dark, 
he  could  not  be  clearly  discerned,  although  I 
heard  his  footsteps  speeding  towards  the 
shore. 

"  I  reached  the  beach  in  time  to  hear  the 
splash  of  oars,  and  concluding  from  the  phos- 
phorescent flash  that  the  man  was  unacquainted 
with  the  lay  of  the  coast,  I  threw  myself  into 


116   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

the  water  and  swam  after  the  boat,  reaching  it 
just  outside  a  dangerous  promontory  locally 
known  as  the  Black  Rock.  I  seized  one  of  the 
oars  and  twisted  it  from  the  stranger's  grasp, 
so  as  to  impede  his  progress,  and  immediately 
he  arose  in  the  boat  and  struck  me  with  the 
other  oar,  but  the  water  prevented  it  from  seri- 
ously injuring  me.  I  seized  this  oar  also  and 
wrenched  it  from  him;  the  motion  brought  his 
body  towards  the  gunwale,  and  seizing  him  by 
the  throat  with  one  hand,  I  held  him  until  he 
relaxed  his  grip,  which  was  likewise  on  my 
throat.  I  then  placed  my  hand  in  his  bosom 
and  recovered  the  stolen  certificate,  and  started 
to  swim  ashore. 

"  I  had  not  proceeded  far  when  a  call  from 
the  boat  for  help  decided  me  to  return  and 
guide  the  boat  ashore;  but  I  had  no  sooner 
reached  the  boat  than  the  stranger  struck  me  in 
the  neck  with  a  knife.  Then  I  again  started 
for  the  shore,  when  I  became  unconscious,  and 
I  knew  no  more  until  the  following  day,  when 
I  found  myself  in  a  gipsy  caravan,  with 
Madge  Morrill,  a  gipsy  lass,  standing  over  me. 

"I  inquired  how  I  came  there,  and  she 
answered  that  I  had  run  against  her  the  pre- 
vious evening,  and  imagining  that  something 


THE  PRISONER'S  EVIDENCE      117 

unusual  was  the  matter,  she  had  followed  me; 
and  later  had  found  me  washed  on  the  shore 
near  Black  Rock,  and  had  summoned  the  men 
from  the  camp  to  take  me  thither. 

'  Without  exhibiting  the  slightest  sympathy 
or  regret,  she  also  informed  me  that  my  wife 
had  been  drowned.  I  attempted  to  arise,  but 
was  so  weak  through  loss  of  blood  that  I  fell 
back  unconscious.  After  a  few  days  I  gained 
sufficient  strength  to  stand,  and  desired  to 
visit  my  wife's  grave. 

;'  There  was  nothing  said  at  the  time  about 
the  discovery  of  the  stranger's  body,  but  with 
the  assistance  of  two  of  the  gipsy  men  I  visited 
what  I  supposed,  and  was  informed,  was  my 
wife's  grave;  but  which,  in  fact,  as  I  recently 
discovered,  was  the  grave  of  the  stranger. 

"  I  again  became  unconscious  through  bod- 
ily weakness,  and  when  I  recovered  it  was  to 
find  the  caravan  moving  away  from  the  neigh- 
bourhood. 

'  The  time  which  elapsed  before  I  fully  re- 
covered my  strength  was  several  weeks;  and 
realising  that  my  wife  was  lost  to  me,  and  that 
my  father  was  the  indirect  cause  of  it,  and 
taking  umbrage  thereat,  I  decided  to  go  to 
foreign  shores. 


118   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  I  took  passage  from  Plymouth  for  Mexico, 
where  I  worked  in  the  gold  fields  for  several 
years ;  and  from  there  I  went  to  Buenos  Ayres, 
where  I  remained  until  a  few  months  ago, 
when  enquiry  being  made  concerning  my  par- 
ents, I  was  shocked  to  discover  that  my  wife 
and  a  daughter  were  alive. 

"  I  returned  to  the  scenes  of  my  youth,  and 
after  baffling  an  attempt  to  wrest  Croyden  es- 
tate from  its  rightful  owner,  I  was  arrested  on 
the  grave  charge  of  murder. 

"  If  I  am  guilty  in  aught  I  have  committed, 
I  am  prepared  to  meet  the  full  penalty  of  the 
law ;  but  my  heart  has  ever  been  free  from  any 
knowledge  of  guilt,  although  filled  with  over- 
whelming sorrow  which  my  youth  encoun- 
tered." 

"  Have  you  finished?  "  asked  his  Worship. 

"  I  think  of  nothing  else,"  replied  the  pris- 
oner. 

At  this  point  I  interposed  the  question, 
'  You  knew  nothing  of  the  discovery  of  the 
stranger's  body  after  the  attack?  " 

Mr.  Ketchem  objected  on  the  ground  that 
it  was  putting  a  negative  question  into  the  pris- 
oner's mouth. 

"  Objection  sustained,"  said  his  Worship. 


THE  PRISONER'S  EVIDENCE      119 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  of  the  discovery  of 
the  body  before  you  went  abroad?"  I  next 
asked. 

Here  again  the  lawyer  interrupted  by  say- 
ing, "  It  is  taken  for  granted  that  the  prisoner 
did  know.  It  was  impossible  for  it  to  be  con- 
cealed." 

Ignoring  this  remark,  I  said  to  the  prisoner, 
"  Answer  my  question  quickly." 

The  prisoner  replied,  "  I  knew  nothing  about 
the  discovery  of  the  body  until  after  my  return 
from  abroad  a  few  months  ago." 

'  You  left  the  stranger  in  the  boat  after  you 
were  stabbed,  and  swam  away?  " 

"  He  was  kneeling  in  the  boat  as  he  lowered 
the  knife  into  my  body,  and  I  swam  away  leav- 
ing him  in  that  position." 

"  We  object,"  said  the  prosecution,  "  on  the 
ground  that  the  prisoner  already  stated  that  the 
night  was  dark." 

"  Objection  sustained,"  said  the  judge. 

"  In  what  location  was  the  boat  at  the  time 
of  the  stabbing?"  I  inquired. 

'  We  object  on  the  same  ground,  that  the 
night  was  dark,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  Objection  sustained,"  said  the  judge. 

I  then  addressed  the  court,  stating  that  I  had 


120   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

no  desire  to  compel  that  the  prisoner's  replies 
to  these  questions  be  put  in  evidence;  but  hav- 
ing familiarised  myself  with  every  foot  of  the 
coast,  I  asked  for  my  own  information.  My 
reasons  would  appear  later. 

Here  Mr.  Ketchem  again  interposed  that 
valuable  time  was  being  taken  up  by  the  de- 
fence in  propounding  illogical  questions. 

I  warmly  retorted  that  I  didn't  care  if  it  took 
the  court's  time  until  doomsday,  as  long  as 
there  was  a  thread  of  hope  for  the  prisoner. 

Not  waiting  for  the  judge  to  comment  on 
this  remark,  I  said  to  the  prisoner,  "  Answer 
the  question!" 

"  To  the  west  of  the  Black  Rock." 

:<  We  object  to  this  forcing  of  answers,"  said 
the  prosecution. 

•The  judge  said,  "  I  think,  Mr.  Gardner,  that 
your  questions  should  be  put  in  such  a  deliber- 
ate manner  that  the  prosecution  may  have  an 
opportunity  to  object  before  the  answers  are 
given." 

'  Then,  your  Worship,  I  will  keep  on  ask- 
ing, and  they  can  continue  objecting.  I  don't 
propose  to  let  this  man  drift  to  the  gallows 
for  the  sake  of  opening  my  mouth  a  few 
times." 


THE  PRISONER'S  EVIDENCE     121 

"  Have  you  experienced  any  such  cases  be- 
fore? "  inquired  his  Worship. 

"  No,  your  Worship ;  and  if  I  ever  do  again, 
I  will  take  care  that  my  client  shall  benefit  by 
my  experience  in  the  rulings  of  this  court." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  DOCTOR'S  EVIDENCE 

A  his    juncture    I  called  the  doctor  to 
the  stand.     He  came  tremblingly, 
uttering  in  an  undertone,  "  Mercy ! 
gentlemen,  mercy!     I  am  only  a 
doctor,  a  very  little  man." 

The  doctor  having  been  sworn,  I  addressed 
him,  saying,  "Pay  attention  to  me,  sir!  Do 
you  understand  what  the  prisoner  is  being  tried 
for? " 

"Certainly.  Murder!  murder!"  the  doctor 
replied,  in  a  voice  which  belied  his  apparent 
fear. 

"  He  is  being  tried  for  his  life,"  I  continued, 
"  and  if  you  know  of  anything  in  the  evidence 
which  has  been  adduced  that  can  be  strength- 
ened by  facts  coming  under  your  observation 
at  the  time  of  the  finding  of  the  stranger's 
body,  it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  give  it.  You 
must  not  misinterpret  the  questions  put  by  men 
anxious  to  bring  their  fellow-man  to  the  gal- 

122 


THE  DOCTOR'S  EVIDENCE    123 

lows,  nor  fear  the  majesty  of  the  law  when  it  is 
arrayed  in  garments  likely  to  awe  the  uniniti- 
ated ;  you  simply  have  to  respect  your  oath  and 
fear  nothing." 

;<  We  object,"  said  the  prosecution.  "It  is 
conveyed  in  the  manner  of  a  threat;  it  is  calcu- 
lated to  intimidate  the  witness." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Gardner,  the  witness  is  old 
enough  to  answer  for  himself,"  said  his  Wor- 
ship. 

"  Some  animals  need  the  whip,"  I  precipi- 
tately observed. 

"  Do  you  compare  the  witness  to  a  horse? " 
asked  the  judge. 

"  There  are  animals  more  stubborn  than  the 
horse,"  I  replied;  "but  I  will  leave  the  com- 
parison until  after  the  witness  has  given  his 
evidence." 

I  then  commanded  the  doctor  to  repeat  in  a 
loud  voice  what  he  saw  on  the  fatal  day,  eight- 
een years  ago. 

Thus  adjured,  the  little  man  swelled  with  im- 
portance, and  spoke  as  follows: 

"  I  heard  the  report  of  George  Croyden 
being  missed,  and  went  to  the  cliffs,  thinking 
he  might  have  fallen  therefrom;  then  I  de- 
scended to  the  beach  and  found  Madge  Morrill, 


124   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

the  gipsy  wench,  standing  over  the  body  of  a 
man.  I  felt  his  pulse.  He  was  dead,  although 
his  body  was  warm;  he  could  not  have  been 
dead  very  long. 

"  I  said  to  the  gipsy  lass,  '  When  did  you 
find  the  body? '  She  answered,  *  About  an 
hour  ago.  He  was  just  alive  then ;  he  gave  me 
these  papers,  and  pointed  to  some  writing  on 
the  back  of  one  of  them ;  he  was  too  ill  to  speak ; 
he  vomited  terribly.' 

"  I  observed  that  his  mouth  was  closed,  and 
that  his  knees  were  drawn  up  to  his  stomach. 

:<  We  held  an  inquest,  and  a  verdict  was  ren- 
dered '  found  drowned.'  There  was  nothing 
in  the  package  of  papers,  nor  about  his  person, 
to  indicate  his  name  or  where  he  came  from ;  he 
was  buried  in  the  churchyard." 

:'  What  became  of  the  papers  which  you 
state  the  gipsy  girl  had  in  her  hands?"  I 
inquired. 

"  I  took  them  from  her.  She  was  unwilling 
to  relinquish  them  at  first,  but  upon  threaten- 
ing her  with  imprisonment,  she  reluctantly 
gave  them  up  to  me." 

'  Was  there  anything  about  those  papers 
that  you  could  remember,  or  that  you  could 
identify? " 


Here  the  prosecution  objected  on  the  ground 
that  it  was  unlikely,  after  a  period  of  eighteen 
years,  that  the  memory  could  be  relied  upon  for 
a  knowledge  sufficient  to  entitle  it  to  credence 
in  a  murder  case. 

I  replied,  "  I  intend  that  those  papers  shall 
be  put  in  evidence,  and  I  insist  upon  getting 
an  answer  to  the  question." 

The  little  doctor  answered,  "  There  was  a 
peculiarity  about  the  package  which  I  don't 
recall  to  mind  for  the  moment;  I  think,  how- 
ever, that  I  could  identify  it." 

Taking  the  package  from  my  pocket  and 
passing  it  to  the  doctor,  I  asked,  "  Is  there  any- 
thing about  this  package  to  remind  you  of 
that  handed  to  you  by  the  gipsy  girl?  " 

Here  the  prosecution  objected  that  unless 
the  papers  were  marked  at  the  time  by  a  re- 
sponsible person,  and  that  mark  re-established 
under  oath  by  the  same  individual,  they  could 
not  be  put  in  evidence. 

The  judge  interposed  to  ask  if  the  papers 
had  been  so  marked. 

I  replied,  "  I  hope  to  connect  the  finding  of 
the  stranger's  body  in  the  condition  explained 
by  the  evidence,  through  the  identity  of  this 
package;  but  I  insist  upon  propounding  as 


126   THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

many    questions    as    I    deem    necessary    re- 
garding it. 

"  I  think  you  will,"  curtly  replied  his 
Worship. 

I  again  addressed  the  doctor.  '  What  have 
you  to  say  regarding  the  identity  of  this 
package? " 

The  doctor  replied,  "  I  recognise  in  it  a  sim- 
ilarity to  the  package  handed  to  me  by  the 
gipsy ;  I  remember  particularly  this  gew-gaw," 
pointing  to  the  chain,  "because  the  gipsy 
demanded  it  back  as  belonging  to  her;  and  I 
also  remember  a  pencil  memorandum  which  the 
gipsy  stated  the  stranger  had  pointed  out  to 
her." 

;'  What  was  the  purport  of  that  writing?  " 

Here  again  the  prosecution  vehemently  ob- 
jected that  the  question  was  irrelevant. 

I  insisted  that  it  was  the  turning  point  of  the 
case. 

The  judge  sustained  the  question. 
."  It  referred  to  the  drowning  of  the  man  who 
assaulted  him,  but  not  knowing  of  any  attack 
at  the  time,  it  was  not  understood;  now  it  is 
apparent  that " 

"  Stop!  stop!  "  yelled  Mr.  Ketchem. 

"  Stop!  "  cried  the  judge. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  EVIDENCE     127 

—that  George  Croyden  was  intended," 
concluded  the  little  doctor. 

*'  Strike  that  off  the  records,"  said  the  judge. 

"  That  is  all  for  the  present,"  I  said  to  the 
doctor.  "  You  would  have  made  a  good 
lawyer.  Take  your  seat  and  don't  leave  it." 

I  then  called  for  Madge  Morrill,  the  gipsy. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  GIPSY'S  EVIDENCE 

MADGE  appeared  with  the  hand- 
kerchief still  fastened  around  her 
head. 

The  gipsy  having  been  sworn, 
I  said  to  her,  "Madge  Merrill,  look  at  the 
prisoner,  and  tell  me  if  you  can  identify 
him." 

She  looked  saucily  at  George  Croyden,  and 
said  to  him,  "  Who  am  I?  " 

The  prisoner  answered,  "  You  are  Madge 
Morrill,  I  should  say." 

"  And    you    are    George    Croyden,"    she 
replied. 

Here   the    prosecution   interfered,    saying, 
'  The  identity  on  both  sides  is  a  mere  supposi- 
tion, inasmuch  as  there  was  an  apparent  hesi- 
tation." 

'  Well,  there  is  no  doubt  about  their  per- 
sonal identity,"  I  replied ;  "  and  there  are  facts 
connected  with  these  two  individuals  which  I 
am  bound  to  elucidate." 

128 


THE   GIPSY'S  EVIDENCE     129 

Here  the  prosecution  again  interposed,  and 
said,  "  Your  Worship,  we  think  it  but  fair  that 
we  should  investigate  the  moral  character  of 
the  witness  before  her  testimony  is  accepted." 

The  gipsy  retorted,  "  My  moral  character 
will  stand  a  better  test  than  yours,  I'll  go  bail." 

The  judge  commanded  her  to  keep  silence 
or  he  would  commit  her  for  contempt. 

I  replied  to  this  unmanly  and  unjust  threat, 
'  Your  Worship,  it  is  characteristic  of  the 
prosecution  to  attempt  to  slander  all  the  testi- 
mony I  produce;  I  think  the  retaliation  is  not 
out  of  place ;  I  earnestly  endorse  it." 

"  It  is  not  a  time  for  bandying  words,"  his 
Worship  replied. 

Mr.  Ketchem  said,  "  We  would  like  to  ask 
this  woman  a  few  questions." 

"  How  long  had  you  known  George  Croy- 
den  before  his  marriage?  " 

"  I  knew  him  by  name  ever  since  I  was  a  lit- 
tle child;  our  caravan  was  in  the  habit  of 
locating  in  the  woods  at  the  back  of  Croyden 


mansion." 


'  Were  you  on  intimate  terms  with  him?  " 
'  Yes,  quite  well ;  we  were  almost  like  real 
lovers." 

At    this    point    I    interposed    by    saying, 


130  THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  Madge,  your  definition  of  the  word  intimate 
is  possibly  the  correct  one,  but  it  is  not  what 
these  men  wish  to  imply  or  convey.  In  plain 
English,  as  they  should  put  the  question,  it  is : 
'  Were  you  guilty  of  any  impropriety  or  unus- 
ual conduct  with  George  Croydon,' — that  is, 
any  immoral  behaviour? " 

"Never!  never!  George  never  even  kissed 
me,  although  he  might  have  hundreds  of  times 
if  he  wanted  to;  he  was  always  a  gentleman, 
full  of  fun,  but  he  never  once  went  beyond 
that."  Then  realising  that  the  prosecution 
was  trying  to  injure  George  Croyden  at  the 
expense  of  her  character,  she  shook  her  fist  at 
the  lawyer,  and  said,  "I'll  be  bound  you  would, 
and  if  your  name  is  "Ketchup,  you  are  the  fel- 
low who  came  to  our  camp  a  few  days  after  the 
stranger  was  discovered,  to  inquire  concerning 
that  package  and  the  wedding  certificate,  and 
you  were  not  as  particular  as  George  was, 
either;  but  I  didn't  want  you,  and  threatened 
to  turn  the  dogs  on  you  if  you  didn't  quit  the 
locality." 

After  this  retort  she  looked  at  him  with  her 
jetty  eyes  until  the  lawyer  was  completely 
cowed. 

I  then  said  to  the  witness,  "  Relate  what  you 


THE  GIPSY'S  EVIDENCE     131 

know  of  the  prisoner  up  to  the  time  of  his  leav- 
ing your  caravan  to  go  abroad." 

"  I  first  got  on  speaking  acquaintance  with 
George  Croyden  when  he  returned  from  col- 
lege; he  would  frequently  visit  the  neighbour- 
hood of  our  encampment,  and  would  some- 
times stop  to  talk  with  me. 

"  Once  he  patted  me  on  the  face,  and  said, 
'  You  are  not  a  bad-looking  girl,  but  your  hair 
needs  grooming.'  I  swore  at  him,  and  he  went 
away  laughing. 

'  The  next  time  I  saw  him,  he  was  driving  a 
pair  of  colts,  and  they  had  silver  curb-chains 
on.  I  had  my  face  washed,  and  my  hair  was 
combed  out  so  that  it  hung  down  to  my  feet; 
he  stopped  on  seeing  me,  and  said,  '  Madge, 
you  look  as  fresh  as  a  rose.  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  come  down  and  kiss  you/ 

"  '  Why  don't  you? '  I  asked, 

"  He  laughed  at  this. 

"  I  said, '  What  are  you  going  to  give  me  for 
a  birthday  present? ' 

"  He  answered,  '  Do  gipsies  have  birth- 
days? ' 

'  Of  course  they  do,'  I  replied. 
'  What  would  you  like  ? '  said  he. 

"  '  A  gold  ring,'  said  I. 


132   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  '  That  you  can't  have,'  said  he,  '  because  it 
is  a  token  of  affection.  Name  something 
else.' 

"  *  Give  me  a  pair  of  those  silver  curb- 
chains,'  said  I. 

"  He  drove  away,  but  the  very  next  time  he 
came  our  way  he  tossed  me  a  small  package, 
saying,  '  Don't  put  those  in  your  nose  or  ears, 
Madge.' 

'  I  know  where  to  put  them,'  said  I. 

"  The  next  time  I  saw  him  was  at  the  rectory 
when  he  was  courting  the  rector's  daughter. 

"  And  the  next  time  after  that  I  was  hang- 
ing around  the  village  one  night  after  he  was 
married,  and  seeing  a  man  running  towards  the 
shore  with  George  chasing  him,  I  followed, 
feeling  that  something  unusual  was  the  matter. 
I  saw  George  plunge  into  the  sea,  and  after 
that  the  waves  deadened  all  other  sounds. 

"  I  went  around  the  cliff  to  the  cove,  and 
after  a  considerable  time  a  body  was  thrown 
upon  the  beach  by  the  waves.  I  went  up  to  it, 
and  found  it  was  George,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
dead.  I  dragged  him  beyond  the  rising  tide, 
and  hastened  to  the  camp  for  help,  and  our 
men  assisted  me  in  taking  him  to  my  wagon; 
there  we  restored  him  to  consciousness. 


Don't  put  those  in  your  nose  or  ears,  Madge  " 


THE  GIPSY'S  EVIDENCE     133 

"  Going  again  to  the  beach  in  the  early 
morning  to  see  what  became  of  the  other  man, 
I  found  him  sitting  at  the  base  of  the  cliff  in 
the  same  cove.  He  had  crawled  up  there, 
thinking  the  tide  might  reach  him,  but  it  only 
comes  that  high  in  very  stormy  weather. 

"  I  went  up  to  him.  He  was  vomiting 
badly,  and  his  knees  went  up  to  his  chin  every 
time  he  vomited.  He  couldn't  speak  for  vom- 
iting, but  he  took  out  a  package  of  papers,  and 
pointing  to  some  writing  on  the  back  of  one, 
passed  the  package  over  to  me.  The  papers 
were  loose,  so  I  took  one  of  the  silver  curb- 
chains  which  George  had  given  me,  and 
fastened  it  around  them. 

"  Shortly  after  this  the  man  gasped  horribly 
and  died. 

"  Not  long  afterwards,  I  saw  somebody  ap- 
proaching, and  the  doctor,  this  little  fellow 
here  (turning  around  and  pointing  at  the 
doctor) ,  came  up  and  said,  c  What  have  you 
here,  girl?  '  Then  he  felt  the  man's  wrist  and 
said,  '  Hasn't  been  dead  long.'  Then  he  began 
to  search  the  man's  pockets.  I  said,  '  These 
are  his  papers ;  he  gave  them  to  me.'  The  doc- 
tor demanded  the  papers,  and  I  refused  to  give 
them  up ;  but  he  threatened  to  send  me  to  gaol 


134   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

for  the  balance  of  my  natural  life  and  to  warm 
quarters  afterwards,  and  snatched  the  package 
from  me. 

"  I  asked  him  to  give  back  my  curb-chain, 
but  he  refused.  I  then  got  mad,  and  I 
thought,  '  George  Croyden  didn't  care  for  me, 
so  I'll  just  make  trouble  for  him,'  and  I  started 
to  find  his  wife,  and  on  the  way  I  met  her  hur- 
rying to  the  cliffs.  I  said  to  her,  '  George  is 
drowned.'  She  screamed  and  rushed  towards 
the  cliff.  I  followed,  and  saw  her  slide  down 
its  dizzy  side,  bounce  out  and  strike  the  Black 
Rock,  and  then  fall  into  the  sea. 

"  Sir  Anthony  Croyden  and  his  servants, 
who  were  searching  among  the  rocks,  saw  her, 
and  saved  her  from  drowning. 

"  I  thought  I  would  make  a  complete  job  by 
telling  George  his  wife  was  drowned.  He 
grew  frantic,  and  tried  to  leave  the  wagon,  but 
he  was  too  weak,  and  fell  back  unconscious. 
When  he  recovered,  he  appealed  so  pathetically 
to  be  taken  to  his  wife's  grave,  that  two  of  our 
men  led  him  to  that  of  the  stranger;  he  fell 
upon  it,  and  carried  on  so  pitifully  that  I  was 
sorry  for  what  I  had  done.  But  I  loved  him, 
and  I  couldn't  undo  it. 

"  After  that  we  journeyed  up  the  country 


THE  GIPSY'S  EVIDENCE     135 

by  easy  stages,  and  one  day  George  stole  away, 
and  I  never  saw  him  again  until  to-day;  and 
that  is  all  I  know,  and  now  I  will  go  back  to 
East  Looe." 

"  One  moment,  Madge,"  I  said ;  and  taking 
the  package  and  passing  it  to  her,  I  asked, 
"  Can  you  identify  any  part  of  this  package?  " 

Madge  looked  at  it,  and  said,  "  Yes ;  here  is 
one  of  the  curb-chains  which  George  gave  me." 

"Do  you  recognise  the  handwriting?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  I  know  that  at  the 
time  I  understood  it  to  mean  that  the  man 
who  attacked  the  stranger  was  drowned,  and 
that  meant  George,  of  course." 

Here  again  the  prosecution  interposed. 
They  said  that  the  witness  acknowledged  she 
could  not  identify  the  writing  or  any  part  of 
the  package  except  by  the  presence  of  the  curb- 
chain,  and  there  were  thousands  of  curb-chains 
of  similar  design  in  use;  they  objected  there- 
fore to  the  latter  being  put  in  evidence. 

I  answered,  "  There  could  be  no  clearer  evi- 
dence than  that  established  by  the  present  wit- 
ness. If  the  production  of  this  package, 
found  as  it  was  by  me  among  the  late  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden's  papers,  who,  the  doctor 


136   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

stated,  was  given  the  custody  of  it,  and  which 
is  fully  identified  by  the  woman,  is  not  conclu- 
sive, there  is  no  use  attempting  to  produce  any 
evidence  whatever  on  behalf  of  the  prisoner." 

I  was  fumbling  the  package,  and  was  struck 
by  the  presence  of  two  short  pieces  of  silk  rib- 
bon which  were  fastened  to  each  end  of  the 
chain,  and  used  as  a  means  to  form  a  bow  on 
the  package. 

I  asked  the  witness,  "  Did  the  curb-chain 
which  you  used  on  the  package  have  any 
appendage,  i.e.,  anything  else  fastened  to  it? " 

*  Yes,"  was  the  answer,  "  I  used  them  for 
garters,  and  not  being  long  enough,  I  tied  rib- 
bons to  each  end,  to  secure  them  with,  some- 
thing like  this"; — and  without  a  moment's 
hesitation  or  a  blush,  she  bent  over,  and  lifting 
her  skirts,  fumbled  around  a  few  seconds,  and 
produced  a  silver  curb-chain  with  ribbons 
attached. 

Taking  it  from  her,  and  blushing  the  while, 
I  dangled  it  before  the  eyes  of  the  astonished 
jurymen,  saying :  "  What  need  ye  of  any 
further  witness?  "  Then  taking  its  mate  from 
the  package,  I  passed  them  to  the  foreman  of 
the  jury,  a  grey-bearded  old  gentleman,  who 
took  them  and  examined  them,  smiling  the 


THE  GIPSY'S  EVIDENCE     137 

while,  and  afterwards  he  passed  them  around 
to  his  companions. 

I  then  remarked  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Gentle- 
men! if  any  further  proof  is  necessary  of  the 
innocence  of  the  prisoner,  it  must  come  from 
Edward  Marshall,  out  of  the  grave!" 


CHAPTER   XVI 

SUMMING   UP 

TURNING   to    the    judge,    I    said: 
"  And  now,  your  Worship,  I  desire 
to  say  a  few  words  touching  the 
character   of   the   three   individuals 
who  have  dared  to  take  the  liberty  of  appear- 
ing in  one  of  her  Majesty's  courts  as  prose- 
cutors. 

"  Chagrined  at  the  loss  of  a  case  instituted 
in  Chancery  to  wrest  by  foul  means  an  estate 
belonging  to  others,  they  trumped  up  this 
murder  charge  on  the  chance  of  there  being  no 
proof  against  it.  It  mattered  not  to  them 
whether  the  rightful  owner  came  into  posses- 
sion of  the  property,  they  cared  nothing 
whether  the  innocent  man  before  you  was 
hanged,  as  long  as  their  personal  wishes  were 
realised,  and  what  those  wishes  are,  emanating 
from  such  debased  minds,  it  is  not  difficult  to 
imagine. 

"  These  men  were  the  real  perpetrators  of 

138 


SUMMING   UP  139 

the  theft  of  the  marriage  certificate  at  the 
vestry  eighteen  years  ago;  they  are  the  ones 
who  hired  Edward  Marshall  to  go  down  to 
East  Looe  and  steal  the  certificate;  they  are 
the  indirect  cause  of  that  man's  death." 

Holding  up  the  package,  I  exclaimed, 
"  These  papers  are  stained  with  that  man's 
blood! 

"  There  is  nothing  in  the  evidence  to  indi- 
cate that  George  Croyden  was  responsible  for 
the  death  of  Edward  Marshall,  but  on  the  con- 
trary, the  latter's  death  was  brought  about 
through  his  own  carelessness  in  trusting  him- 
self to  the  mercy  of  a  treacherous  coast  un- 
known to  him.  It  was  the  bounden  duty  of 
George  Croyden,  or  any  other  right-minded 
man,  to  arrest  the  thief;  in  so  doing  George 
Croyden  not  only  jeopardised  his  own  life,  but 
through  the  complications  that  followed,  was 
compelled  to  live  a  life  full  of  sorrowful 
reflections. 

"  I  not  only  ask  that  the  prisoner  be  released, 
free  from  every  stain  upon  his  character,  but 
that  the  court  take  steps  to  impeach  these  three 
knaves  who  caused  his  arrest." 

The  judge  leered  upon  me,  and  remarked, 
" This  is  strong  language!" 


140   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

I  responded,  "  It  is  not  strong  enough !  such 
rascals  should  be  made  an  example  of  for  their 
temerity  and  audacity  in  appearing  as  advo- 
cates of  her  Majesty's  laws!" 

The  court  became  in  an  uproar,  but  the 
judge  soon  restored  order  by  rapping  his 
gavel. 

"  You  are  disturbing  the  equanimity  of  this 
court  room,"  the  judge  remarked;  then  turning 
to  the  jury  he  said:  "  Gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
attend  to  me. 

'  You  have  followed  the  incidents  leading 
up  to  the  murder  of  Edward  Marshall  at  East 
Looe ;  you  have  heard  the  evidence. 

:'  The  question,  in  my  judgment,  is  not  so 
much  whether  the  baubles  exhibited  by  the 
gipsy  witness  are  the  same  as  presented  to  her 
by  the  prisoner,  but  as  to  whether  Edward 
Marshall  came  to  his  death  by  strangulation 
at  the  hands  of  George  Croyden,  or  by  drown- 
ing, or  both  causes,  such  as  being  weakened  by 
strangulation  beyond  the  power  to  preserve 
himself  in  the  water. 

''  If  you  consider  his  death  caused  by  stran- 
gulation, you  will  render  a  verdict  accordingly ; 
if  by  strangulation  and  drowning  combined, 
you  will  so  render  it;  in  either  case,  let  your 


SUMMING   UP  141 

decision  be  framed  with  a  due  respect  for  the 
law  in  such  cases  made  and  provided." 

I  held  up  my  hand  and  said:  "  Your  Wor- 
ship, it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  those  pres- 
ent at  the  inquest,  who  saw  the  body  and  were 
more  capable  of  judging  of  the  cause  of  death 
than  entire  strangers  to  the  event  are  eighteen 
years  afterward,  rendered  a  verdict  that  the 
man  was  found  drowned,  meaning  that  the 
cause  of  death  was  drowning." 

The  judge  looked  at  me  savagely,  then  said 
to  the  jury,  "  You  have  my  charge,  please 
retire." 

Neither  Catherine  Croyden  nor  her  daughter 
had  been  called  upon  during  the  trial,  but  they 
sat  in  the  front  seat  facing  the  judge  and  the 
prisoner,  and  I  was  too  deeply  concerned 
throughout  the  trial  to  go  to  them. 

The  jury  had  retired,  and  I  sat  watching 
the  three  scoundrels  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
counsel  table;  they  were  huddled  in  a  bunch 
along  with  the  erstwhile  claimant,  and  were 
gesticulating  to  each  other  like  Frenchmen. 

Turning  around  I  looked  at  the  prisoner, 
who  stood  gazing  in  an  undefined  way,  and 
appeared  to  be  the  least  concerned  as  to  what 
fate  awaited  him.  His  thoughts  were  evi- 


142   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

dently  far  away  from  the  court  room.  At 
that  moment  an  officer  appeared  and  took  him 
away  to  a  cell  to  await  his  final  call  for  judg- 
ment; and  the  judge  subsequently  left  his  seat 
to  partake  of  refreshment. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  VERDICT 

IT  was  shortly  after  one  o'clock  when  the 
judge  resumed  his  seat,  and  after  nerv- 
ously handling  some  papers  which  lay 
before  him,  he  gazed  in  a  curious  manner 
around  the  court   room,   which  had  become 
darkened  by  a  portending  storm  without. 

He  then  ordered  the  jury  to  appear,  also 
that  the  prisoner  be  brought  before  him. 

George  Croyden  was  the  first  to  arrive.  He 
was  led  in  from  his  cell  handcuffed  to  an  officer, 
and  appeared  to  be  unconcerned. 

The  officer  stood  in  the  dock  beside  him 
without  removing  the  manacles,  reasoning 
from  previous  experiences  that  it  was  a  mat- 
ter of  a  few  minutes  only  before  the  prisoner 
would  have  to  be  escorted  back  to  his  cell  again. 
At  this  point  the  jury  came  in.  The  pris- 
oner glanced  at  them  as  though  his  attention 
was  merely  attracted  by  moving  objects. 
Nearly  all  of  the  jurymen  eyed  the  prisoner  as 
they  passed  him. 

143 


144   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

The  court  crier  stepped  forward  and  ad- 
dressed the  jury,  saying: 

"  During  the  rendition  of  the  verdict,  the 
jurors  will  arise  and  remain  standing  until  the 
same  is  officially  recorded  and  announced." 
Then  with  a  motion,  he  signalled  the  jurors  to 
arise,  and  said  solemnly,  "  Jurors,  look  upon 
the  prisoner.  Prisoner  look  upon  the  jurors.'* 

At  that  moment  a  flash  of  lightning  lit  up 
the  room,  and  was  followed  by  an  awful  crash 
of  thunder  immediately  overhead,  resembling 
the  discharge  of  heavy  artillery. 

As  the  lightning's  glare  died  away,  the  room 
became  wrapped  in  inky  darkness,  and  the  vast 
audience  was  awed  into  silence. 

Suddenly  a  clarion  voice  resounded,  "  This 
room  requires  the  lightnings  of  heaven  to 
pierce  the  gloom  of  death  with  which  its  atmo- 
sphere is  darkened ! " 

Again  the  lightning  flashed,  and  again  the 
thunder  crashed,  and  again  from  out  the  inky 
darkness  that  clarion  voice  resounded: 

;<  The  judge  of  all  men  sends  His  mighty 
voice  and  flaming  sword  to  free  the  innocent! " 

For  several  minutes  a  dead  silence  prevailed 
as  though  the  court  were  wrapped  in  death. 

As  the  darkness  began  to  clear  away,  the 


THE    VERDICT  145 

prosecutors  were  seen  huddled  in  a  bunch, 
cowed  by  the  awful  revelations;  and  the 
judge  was  as  immobile  as  death. 

Finally  the  judge  directed  the  crier  to  pro- 
ceed, and  he  resumed,  "  How  say  you,  gentle- 
men of  the  jury,  do  you  find  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  George  Croyden,  guilty  of  the  felony 
of  murder  whereof  he  stands  indicted,  or  not 
guilty?" 

The  foreman  of  the  jury,  holding  a  paper  in 
his  hand,  which  he  flourished  as  he  spoke,  raised 
his  voice  to  the  bawling  pitch,  exclaiming: 
'  We  are  unanimous  in  finding  the  prisoner 
'not  guilty,'  and  we  have  reduced  it  to  writing 
so  that  there  may  be  no  mistake  about  it; 
and  we  have  also  appended  our  belief  that  the 
charge  was  trumped  up  by  men  devoid  of  char- 
acter, not  for  the  purpose  of  supporting  the 
law,  but  for  their  own  aggrandizement." 

The  audience  displayed  its  satisfaction  by 
smiles  and  audible  whisperings,  a  few  hysteri- 
cal ones  going  to  the  shocking  extreme  of 
shouting  "hurrah,"  and  were  ignominiously 
expelled  from  the  court  room.  One  little  old 
man,  in  his  enthusiasm,  shouted  "  Gentle 
Jesus,"1  and  was  found  on  the  court-house 
1  Witnessed  by  the  author. 


146   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

steps  late  in  the  day,  still  rubbing  his  head  as  a 
result  of  his  blasphemy. 

As  soon  as  order  was  restored    the  judge 

frowned  on  the  foreman,  and  tartly  answered, 

'  You  have  done  your  duty  in  rendering  your 

verdict;  it  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  give 

your  opinions  regarding  the  case." 

'  We  think  it  is  due  to  this  innocent  man  that 
we  voice  our  sentiments  to  the  world,"  said 
greybeard. 

"  The  world  is  not  trying  this  case,"  replied 
the  judge. 

"  We  think  the  world  would  be  better  for 
knowing  it,"  replied  the  old  gentleman. 

"Cease  thy  talk,  man!  I  pass  the  verdict 
here."  Then  scowling  at  the  prisoner,  he  con- 
tinued, "  Prisoner,  look  at  me." 

George  Croyden  turned  in  an  unconcerned 
manner  and  looked  at  the  judge,  who  said, 
"  Fortunately  for  you,  the  verdict  has  been 
rendered  in  your  favour,  consequently  you  are 
at  liberty  to  walk  away  from  this  court,  a  free 
man;  it  has  not  been  made  clear  to  me,  how- 
ever, how  Edward  Marshall  met  his  death." 

To  the  surprise  of  the  judge  and  to  all  pres- 
ent the  prisoner  answered :  "  Neither  has  it 
been  made  clear  to  me,  but  this  I  do  know, 


THE   VERDICT  147 

although  it  happened  eighteen  years  ago,  it 
has  been  efficacious  in  creating  a  living  death 
for  me.  But  for  the  stigma,  I  prefer  to  go 
down  to  the  grave."  Then  turning  to  the  jury 
and  bowing,  he  said:  "  I  thank  you,  gentle- 
men," but  he  did  not  leave  the  dock. 

As  soon  as  the  judge  had  rendered  the  ver- 
dict, Catherine  Croyden  arose  to  go  to  her 
husband,  but  as  soon  as  he  commenced  his 
statement  she  stopped,  and  listened  eagerly  to 
his  words,  and  as  she  divined  their  meaning, 
she  uplifted  her  hands,  and  with  an  agonised 
cry,  fell  into  the  arms  of  her  daughter. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

BEFORE   LEAVING  THE   COURT   ROOM 

YOU  are  discharged,"  said  the  judge. 
Still  the  prisoner  did  not  move. 
"  You  had  better  explain  to  your 
client,"  remarked  the  judge,  ad- 
dressing me. 

I  answered,  "  I  wish  to  ask  your  Worship,  if 
in  making  a  record  of  the  verdict  you  intend 
incorporating  the  censure  made  by  the  jury 
against  the  conspirators  in  this  case?  " 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  replied  the  judge. 

"  It  would  be  only  charitable  to  do  so,"  I 
replied,  "  but  since  the  writing  is  unnecessary 
among  the  court  records,  will  you  kindly  give 
me  the  written  verdict,  so  that  my  client  can 
preserve  it?  " 

"  It  is  the  property  of  the  court,"  answered 
the  judge." 

"  Mr.  Gardner,  I  will  see  that  you  get  a 
duplicate  engrossed  on  parchment,"  testily  put 
in  the  foreman  of  the  jury. 

148 


BEFORE  LEAFING  COURT    149 

At  this  stage,  Madge  Morrill,  who  had 
waited  to  hear  the  verdict,  bawled  out,  "  Give 
me  back  my  silver  curb-chains!  give  me  back 
my  garters!" 

"Put  that  hussy  out!"  shouted  the  judge. 

"  My  stocking  is  coming — 

Here  an  officer  came  forward  and  seized  her, 
but  her  husband  intervened,  and  it  looked  as 
though  an  ugly  broil  would  ensue. 

I  stepped  to  Madge  Morrill,  and  said, 
"  Madge,  those  chains  must  be  preserved. 
Stop  at  East  Looe  and  you  shall  get  a  diamond 
pair."  Madge  then  left  the  court  with  her 
husband. 

George  Croyden  beckoned  me  to  him  and 
whispered,  "  Explain  to  Mistress  Croyden  that 
I  am  unfit  to  converse  with  her  at  this  time ;  the 
disclosures  of  to-day  have  disturbed  my  mind, 
so  that  I  beg  her  to  be  gracious  to  me  until  I 
reach  East  Looe ;  I  shall  go  thither  at  once." 

George  Croyden  left  the  court  with  bowed 
head.  Catherine  Croyden  arose  and  looked 
anxiously  after  his  retreating  figure,  and  I 
went  to  her  and  explained  what  he  had  desired 
me  to  say. 

She  sighed,  and  said :  "  Come,  Caroline,  we 
will  go  home  also." 


150   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Catherine  was  so  concerned  over  the  trial 
that  she  left  all  her  luggage  behind  her. 

And  now,  the  charge  of  murder  ended,  it 
may  interest  the  lovers  of  justice  to  learn  that 
within  a  very  few  weeks  after  this  trial  the 
judge  who  officiated  was  examined  by  qualified 
physicians  appointed  for  that  purpose,  who 
decided  that  he  was  insane,  and  he  was  com- 
mitted to  an  asylum,  in  which  he  shortly  after 
died. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

A  SERMON   AT   PARTING 

A)  now  this  story    must  go    back  to 
that  period  when  George  had  been 
taken  away  in  the  gipsy  caravan; 
when  his  body  was  weak,  and  his 
his  young  heart  racked   with   overwhelming 
sorrow  for  her  he  thought  dead. 

He  had  determined  to  leave  the  land  of  his 
birth,  and  go  to  a  foreign  clime  the  moment  he 
was  strong  enough  to  undertake  the  journey; 
and  this  determination  was  hastened  by  an  inci- 
dent which  happened  shortly  afterwards. 

Reaching  the  outskirts  of  Liskeard,  he 
secretly  left  the  gipsy  encampment,  and 
strolled  into  the  town;  there  he  was  attracted 
by  a  motley  crowd  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, who  had  assembled  outside  the  old  parish 
church;  many  of  them  were  in  tears,  and  for- 
getting his  own  sorrow  for  the  moment  in  his 
sympathy  for  others,  he  questioned  one  of  the 
group,  who  informed  him  that  a  body  of 

151 


152    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

miners  were  about  to  leave  in  search  of  gold  in 
Mexico,  and  that  the  old  rector  was  going  to 
address  them  from  the  pulpit. 

As  soon  as  the  church  doors  were  opened, 
George  entered  with  the  rest. 

The  miners,  numbering  some  thirty  souls, 
who  were  about  to  leave  their'  native  land,  sat 
together  in  the  pews  facing  the  pulpit,  while 
their  wives  and  others  who  were  interested  in 
the  proceedings  scattered  themselves  in  the 
adjoining  seats. 

It  being  a  secular  day,  the  old  rector  came 
unattended  either  by  curate  or  the  formality 
of  the  clerk,  whose  Sunday  duties  chiefly  in- 
volved the  repeating  of  "  Amen,"  after  each 
prayer. 

The  prayers,  being  orthodox,  were  rigidly 
fixed  for  certain  days  and  special  occasions; 
and  those  entrusted  with  the  compilation  of 
these  prayers  in  the  long  ago  seeming  to  have 
forgotten  those  who,  unable  to  obtain  a  liveli- 
hood on  the  earth's  surface,  were  digging  out 
an  existence  deep  down  in  its  bowels,  there  was 
no  departing  from  the  forms  already  laid 
down,  so  that  any  reference  to  the  miners 
would  ha.ve  to  be  made  in  the  nature  of  an 
address. 


A   SERMON  AT  PARTING     153 

Having  ended  these  preliminaries,  the  old 
rector  ascended  the  pulpit  and  for  a  few  min- 
utes gazed  sadly  around  upon  the  troubled 
faces  before  him,  for  most  of  them  bore  the 
outlines  of  toil  and  hardship. 

Then  he  addressed  them  saying :  "  Men  and 
brethren,  the  words  that  I  shall  utter  require  no 
Scripture  text  for  reference,  although  there 
are  many  that  are  applicable.  I  choose  rather 
to  speak  to  you  from  the  impulses  of  the  heart, 
as  a  father  would  to  his  children. 

"For  sixty  years  I  have  preached  to  con- 
gregations in  this  church. 

"  Many  of  those  whom  I  preached  to  in  my 
advent  to  this  living  are  sleeping  in  the  church- 
yard yonder;  many  of  you  who  have  reached 
man's  estate  and  are  the  fathers  of  families 
were  brought  to  me  in  your  mother's  arms  to 
be  baptised  at  the  font.  Your  children  have 
also  received  the  baptismal  blessing  at  my 
hands,  so  that  aside  from  my  religious  duties 
in  pointing  out  the  path  of  rectitude,  I  have 
felt  a  responsibility  for  your  worldly  wel- 
fare. 

'  The  stupendous  question  concerning  the 
worldly  conditions  of  man  I  am  afraid  will 
never  be  satisfactorily  solved;  the  two  extremes 


154   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

between  the  very  rich  and  the  very  poor  admit 
of  so  many  diversities  of  the  different  stages 
between,  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  which 
stage  is  the  most  conducive  to  happiness. 

;<  There  are  so  many  things  constantly 
occurring  in  our  lives  at  variance  with  our  ideas 
of  happiness,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  person 
is  so  blessed  that  he  knoweth  not  sorrow,  or 
is  so  tortured  that  the  sunshine  does  not  occa- 
sionally shed  its  brightness  upon  his  path. 

"  A  moderate  competence,  which  can  be 
maintained  through  life,  would  appear  to  be 
the  happy  medium  which  fears  not  famine  nor 
gives  room  for  wanton  display. 

"  There  are  many  ill  conditions,  however, 
which  preponderate  over  the  good,  so  that  it 
is  difficult  to  satisfy  the  mind  at  all  times  that 
the  provisions  of  Providence  are  all-wise. 

"  We  are  more  or  less  creatures  of  natural 
circumstance;  the  Esquimau  is  condemned  to 
a  life  of  eternal  winter,  whilst  the  Hottentot 
swelters  under  the  heat  of  the  tropics;  others 
there  are  who  enjoy  a  happy  medium,  which 
appears  to  be  by  far  the  most  gratifying. 

"So,  too,  in  the  walks  of  life ;  some  men  have 
attained  lofty  positions  commanding  great 
wealth,  others  are  condemned  to  toil  for  their 


A   SERMON  AT  PARTING    155 

daily  bread;  both  conditions  are  attended  with 
more  or  less  inconvenience  and  unhappiness; 
the  happy  medium  is  obviously  the  best. 

"  Yet  with  all  these  plausible  remarks  we 
cannot  dispose  of  the  fact  that  there  will  always 
be  lofty  positions  for  men  to  aspire  unto  and 
worry  over,  and  likewise  humble  toil  for  those 
who  are  compelled  by  environment  and  force 
of  circumstance  to  follow  it;  these  two  ex- 
tremes will  be  ever  present,  but  the  happy 
medium  is  what  you  must  aim  at. 

"  It  has  been  said  by  one  in  higher  authority 
than  myself  that  no  man's  worldly  condition  is 
permanent.  That  is  undoubtedly  true  if  we 
accept  the  details,  but  if  our  worldly  condition 
means  our  financial  condition,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  the  remark  was  intended  for  such,  as  an 
old  man,  who  has  witnessed  the  daily  struggles 
of  your  fathers  and  those  who  have  come  after 
them,  I  should  say  that  their  worldly  condition, 
practically  speaking,  was  about  as  permanent 
as  it  well  could  be. 

"  I  have  admired  your  patience  under  severe 
provocation  to  rebel;  I  have  seen  dire  oppres- 
sion cease  through  your  determination  to  out- 
live it,  and  it  is  only  fairness  to  the  manhood 
you  displayed  in  many  cases  of  destitution,  for 


156   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

me  to  state  it  was  in  the  power  of  those  for 
whose  aggrandisement  you  risked  your  lives 
and  lost  the  sunshine,  to  have  brought  more 
happiness  into  your  homes.  I  make  this  remark 
to  show  you  that  my  sympathy  has  penetrated 
below  the  surface,  but  it  is  not  said  with  the 
intention  of  disaffecting  you,  or  to  make  those 
who  remain-  dissatisfied  with  their  lot ;  my  duty 
is  to  encourage  you,  and  to  lead  you  into  the 
path  which  will  tend  to  brighten  your  lives,  for 
whether  rich  or  poor,  there  is  a  day  coming  to 
all  of  us  when  we  must  lay  down  the  pick  and 
shovel  forever.  Let  not  the  closing  scenes  of 
life,  and  the  glinting  of  the  dawn  of  our  eter- 
nal home  be  marred  by  unhappy  reflections 
upon  opportunities  for  noble  actions  left 
undone. 

"  The  desire  to  improve  one's  worldly  con- 
dition, particularly  when  it  relieves  us  from 
pecuniary  hardships,  is  a  sacred  duty,  and  one 
to  be  highly  commended,  but  it  calls  for  extra 
wisdom  in  regulating  how  far  that  desire  shall 
extend  to  comprehend  what  our  worldly  hap- 
piness requires. 

"  Solomon  said,  '  Contentment  is  great 
riches.'  I  am  more  than  ever  satisfied  that  it 
is  the  wisest  remark  ever  made  to  guide  frail 


A   SERMON  AT  PARTING    157 

humanity.  It  is  too  much  to  expect,  however, 
that  man  can  be  contented  on  the  bare  necessa- 
ries of  life,  but  it  is  well  to  limit  our  de- 
sires within  a  sphere  that  will  bring  content- 
ment. 

"  And  now,  my  brethren,  I  have  done  moral- 
ising with  you,  and  will  make  a  few  remarks 
on  what  more  directly  concerns  your  every-day 
life. 

"  Several  of  you  who  have  decided  to  try 
your  fortunes  in  a  foreign  soil  will  leave  wives 
and  families  at  home.  kTo  you  I  will  say  that 
your  first  duty  is  to  them.  New  scenes  and  new 
faces  will  have  an  attraction  for  you,  but  do 
not  forget  the  anxious  faces  you  have  left  at 
home.  Remember  her  whom,  when  a  young 
girl,  you  courted  and  loved  and  took  to  your 
bosom;  remember  her  who  has  clung  to  you 
through  every  adversity;  remember  the  little 
ones  who  have  learned  to  love  you  unmindful 
of  the  storm  without,  or  the  hunger  within; 
they  will  miss  you;  remember  that  they  too 
some  day  will  learn  to  love  other  hearts,  and 
that  the  lesson  which  you  teach  them  now  will 
have  a  lasting  effect;  remember  that  when  the 
sun  is  shining  for  you  in  foreign  lands  there 
may  be  a  tempest  at  home;  remember  that 


158    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

when  you  are  having  a  feast  abroad,  your  loved 
ones  may  be  pinched  with  hunger,  and  with 
many  of  the  ills,  of  life  fluttering  about  their 
path,  yet  piercing  the  gloom  with  longing  eyes 
to  learn  how  he  fares  who  left  them. 

'  To  the  unmarried  men  I  would  say,  you 
all  have  sweethearts  at  home.  Remember,  that 
although  they  may  appear  rough  without,  they 
have  tender  hearts  within,  those  hearts  are  in 
your  keeping;  they  too,  will  be  waiting  and 
longing  to  hear  from  you,  and  wrhen  other  lips 
and  other  hearts  their  tales  of  love  shall  tell  in 
words  of  subtler  meaning,  don't  forget  that 
still  waters  run  deepest,  and  the  young  girl 
who  has  entrusted  her  heart  to  your  keeping 
is  too  far  away  to  chide  you,  but  though  silent, 
has  a  deeper  love  for  you. 

"  Lastly,  to  married  and  single,  let  me  warn 
you  that  the  companionship  of  the  glass  is  to 
the  detriment  of  your  loved  ones,  it  is  mis- 
leading, it  is  full  of  deceit  and  will  ensnare 
you. 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  of  the  golden  days  of 
your  prosperity,  and  to  witness  your  return  to 
your  loved  ones,  bringing  sufficient  compe- 
tence for  contentment;  I  would  like  to  see  the 
smiles  with  which  your  loved  ones  wTill  welcome 


A   SERMON  AT  PARTING    159 

your  return,  much  more  than  experience  the 
regret  which  their  tears  of  sorrow  cause  me 
at  your  departure.  But  I  have  lived  more 
than  the  allotted  time  of  man ;  I  cannot  hope  to 
hear  of  your  prosperity;  I  cannot  hope  to  live 
to  watch  over  those  who  may  need  a  guiding 
hand  like  mine,  for  I  have  passed  the  transi- 
tion stage  which  allows  a  man  to  look  back 
fondly  on  the  golden  days  of  youth,  and  I 
have  now  but  to  await  the  call  which  will  sum- 
mon me  to  that  portal,  to  receive  my  welcome 
to  the  realms  of  everlasting  day. 

"  Men,  do  not  forget  an  old  man's  words, 
your  old  rector's  words ;  they  will  prove  golden 
to  you  in  the  darkest  midnight  hour,  they  will 
bring  you  back  to  your  loved  ones,  with  hearts 
unscathed. 

"  And  now  a  word  to  your  wives  and  sweet- 
hearts. I  admonish  you  to  be  faithful  to  your 
husbands  and  lovers ;  depart  not  from  the  path 
of  virtue ;  so  will  your  hearts  be  ready  to  greet 
them  openly  without  fear  and  trembling  upon 
their  return." 

Then  lifting  his  hands  to  bless  them,  he  said : 
"  May  He,  who  knows  the  sparrow's  fall  and 
hears  the  hungry  raven's  call,  look  down  from 
His  holy  seat  and  hear  your  prayers,  and  so 


160   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

guide  and  govern  your  lives  in  the  purity  of 
His  love,  that  when  your  earthly  career  is 
ended,  I  may  meet  you  at  Heaven's  gate,  and 
introduce  you  to  that  bliss  which  knows  no 
parting,  nor  sorrow,  nor  strife." 

The  old  rector  then  descended  the  pulpit,  and 
stood  underneath  the  great  arch  at  the  main 
entrance  of  the  church,  and  as  the  men 
came  near,  he  addressed  them  saying:  "  It  wras 
through  this  arch  ye  were  brought  to  me  when 
little  babes  to  be  baptised,  it  was  through  this 
arch  your  loved  ones  were  carried  to  receive  the 
last  solemn  rites  of  burial,  but  ye  are  passing 
out  of  it  to  go  to  foreign  climes." 

Then  he  took  each  in  turn  by  the  hand,  say- 
ing: "  Good-bye,  James;  God  bless  you,  Wil- 
liam ;  have  a  care  of  your  cups,  John,  good-bye ; 
Thomas,  don't  forget  your  bonnie  Jane,  good- 
bye, my  lad;"  and  so  on.  For  each  he  had  a 
kindly  word  to  suit  his  particular  case,  but  ever 
through  the  trying  ordeal,  the  tears  trickled 
down  his  wrinkled  cheeks. 

"Good-bye!  I  lose  you,  my  children; 
good-bye ! " 

At  last  came  George  Croyden  with  saddened 
face  and  extended  hand.  "And  you,  sir!  you 
are  a  stranger? " 


161 

"Bless  me  too,  father,  for  I  need  it  very 
much ;  I  am  going  with  them." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son." 

And  so  the  old  rector  bid  good-bye  to  those 
hard-struggling  men  whom  he  loved ;  bid  good- 
bye to  those  whom  he  never  saw  again  on  earth. 


CHAPTER   XX 

AN   INTRODUCTION   ABROAD 

SAD  as  the  parting  was  between  the  old 
rector  and  the  miners,  still  more  sor- 
rowful were  the  farewell  scenes  be- 
tween husband,  wife,  and  children,  and 
sweetheart  and  lover. 

All  doubt  and  misgiving  were  cleared  up  in 
affection's  warm  embrace,  and  resolutions  were 
formed  which,  if  fulfilled,  would  make  the 
angels  rejoice;  the  men  were  going  far  away, 
it  might  be  for  years,  and  it  might  be  forever. 

The  husbands  and  lovers  started  on  their 
long  journey,  and  that  night  and  for  many 
years  afterwards,  the  fond  wives  dreamed  of 
stormy  seas,  of  black  hulls  floating  against  the 
docks  with  nobody  on  board,  of  strange  craft, 
always  getting  ready  to  sail  from  foreign 
shores,  but  never  weighing  anchor. 

Within  two  days  the  miners  had  shipped 
from  Plymouth,  and  after  a  few  weeks,  arrived 
at  the  scene  of  their  future  labours,  in  Mexico. 

162 


AN  INTRODUCTION  ABROAD     163 

George  Croyden  remained  with  the  miners, 
and  was  looked  upon  by  them  as  one  removed 
from  their  ilk  by  superior  education  and  tal- 
ents, but  they  tolerated  his  presence  with  the 
same  courtesy  they  would  have  shown  at  home. 
He  continued  in  the  same  pensive  mood  that  he 
left  with,  and  after  a  few  years,  having  accu- 
mulated considerable  wealth,  he  bid  his  com- 
panions farewell,  and  without  any  particular 
object  in  view,  journeyed  to  Buenos  Ayres. 

At  Buenos  Ayres  he  located  in  the  delight- 
ful suburbs  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  life  of 
ease,  but  he  still  bore  that  saddened  counte- 
nance which  had  never  left  him  since  that  fatal 
night. 

How  long  he  would  have  remained  in 
Buenos  Ayres  but  for  a  somewhat  trivial  occur- 
rence, is  a  conjecture.  There  are  always  little 
things  creeping  into  our  lives  to  change  our 
plans. 

George  Croyden  took  delight  in  wandering 
about  a  particular  neighbourhood,  which  com- 
prised one  of  the  most  beautiful  estates  in 
Buenos  Ayres ;  whether  the  fates  led  him  to  do 
so  the  reader  must  judge,  but  certain  it  was, 
this  spot  was  destined  to  change  the  whole 
course  of  his  life. 


164   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

The  owner  of  this  beautiful  property  was 
no  less  a  personage  than  Colonel  Reginald 
Glanville,  who,  after  making  himself  conspicu- 
ous for  bravery  in  a  war  between  Chile  and 
Peru,  visited  Buenos  Ayres,  and  married  into 
the  possession  of  a  most  estimable  lady  and 
her  estate.  An  only  daughter  blessed  this 
marriage. 

It  will  never  be  known  whether  George 
Croyden  ever  had  a  glimpse  of  the  beautiful 
daughter  before  the  eventful  day  which 
brought  about  an  introduction,  but  if  so,  he 
was  a  silent  admirer. 

On  this  particular  day,  George  was  on 
horseback,  cantering  along  the  highway  bor- 
dering the  estate,  when  he  espied  two  ladies 
and  a  gentleman  at  some  distance,  making 
hasty  steps  toward  him,  whilst  in  a  pasture 
fenced  off  from  the  road  a  large  bull  was 
trying  to  break  through.  Realising  their 
danger,  George  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  in 
a  few  seconds  was  among  them,  but  too  late. 
The  animal,  growing  more  impatient,  tried  to 
jump  the  fence,  and  the  weight  of  its  huge 
body  broke  it  down;  tossing  its  head  it  pawed 
the  earth  and  bellowed  with  rage,  then  lowering 
its  horns,  it  made  a  dash  towards  the  frightened 


AN  INTRODUCTION  ABROAD     165 

group.  The  ladies  screamed  and  huddled 
together,  while  the  gentleman  stood  guard  with 
a  light  cane. 

Quick  as  the  lightning  flash  George  spurred 
his  horse  in  front  of  them,  and  shouted :  "  Help 
the  ladies  over  the  fence,  Sirrah! "  at  the  same 
time  turning  his  horse  so  as  to  face  the  bull ;  he 
received  the  full  charge,  the  impact  forcing 
his  horse  to  its  haunches. 

George  slid  out  of  the  saddle  and,  springing 
to  the  younger  woman,  who  had  just  secured 
the  safety  of  the  elder  lady,  he  took  her  in  his 
strong  arms,  and  lifted  her  bodily  over  the 
fence,  then  turning  to  the  gentleman,  he  ejacu- 
lated, "Save  yourself!" 

"No!  no!"  said  the  gentleman,  "now  the 
ladies  are  safe,  this  is  too  good  an  opportunity, 
it  is  our  turn  to  charge  the  bull ! "  Whilst  he 
talked  he  bombarded  the  animal  with  stones, 
with  which  the  road  abounded,  and  George  fol- 
lowing his  example,  the  bull  fled  as  precipi- 
tately as  it  came. 

Wiping  the  dust  off  his  right  hand,  the 
gentleman  extended  it  to  George,  saying: 
'  You  have  done  us  a  signal  service,  sir,  pos- 
sibly saved  one  or  more  of  us  from  serious,  if 
not  fatal  injury.  I  am  Colonel  Glanville,  and 


166   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

I    live    on    this    estate    with    my    wife    and 
daughter." 

After  the  bull  had  retired  the  ladies  ap- 
proached the  fence;  so  that,  as  Colonel  Glan- 
ville  mentioned  his  wife  and  daughter,  he 
bowed,  and  waved  his  hand  gracefully  towards 
them. 

George  bowed  in  return  to  a  gracious  cour- 
tesy from  the  ladies. 

The  elder  lady  said,  "  We  are  under  lasting 
obligations  to  you,  sir!" 

George  replied,  "  I  am  deeply  thankful 
that  what  portended  to  be  a  serious  affair 
has  led  instead  to  this  pleasant  introduction; 
my  name  is  George  Croyden,  and  I  am  a  Cor- 
nishman." 

'  You  will  come  right  along  with  us  to  the 
house,  Mr.  Croyden,"  said  Colonel  Glanville. 
"  I  will  send  a  groom  to  pick  up  your  horse ; 
it  is  quietly  browsing  after  its  unfriendly 
introduction,  no  doubt." 

George  offered  his  arm  to  the  younger  lady, 
and  she  timidly  placed  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
thereon,  because  such  a  proceeding  was  un- 
known to  her. 

'Yes!  yes!  that  is  English  enough  and 
pretty  enough,  Mr.  Croyden ! "  and  addressing 


AN  INTRODUCTION  ABROAD     167 

his  wife,  Colonel  Glanville  said,  "  Come,  my 
dear!  this  English  fashion  of  arming  it  along 
through  life  looks  quite  sociable,"  and  he 
placed  his  wife's  arm  in  his. 

As  they  entered  the  estate  at  the  main  en- 
trance and  proceeded  along  the  path  which  led 
through  an  avenue  of  fine  old  trees,  the  colonel 
elicited  from  George  that  he  had  been  seeking 
solace  abroad  as  a  relief  from  sorrow,  but  that 
his  pilgrimage  hadn't  cured  it,  and  that  he 
intended  returning  to  his  native  land  after  a 
few  months'  sojourn  in  Buenos  Ayres. 

"You  have  no  ties  here?"  asked  Colonel 
Glanville. 

"  None  whatever,  or  elsewhere,  for  that  mat- 
ter, saving  the  natural  love  of  home,"  answered 
George. 

"  Ah !  home !  sweet  home ! "  mused  the  colonel. 
'  Well,  Mr.  Croyden,  if  you  desire  to  extend 
your  kindly  assistance  beyond  that  of  cham- 
pion, you  will  make  your  home  with  us  during 
your  stay ;  the  mansion  is  large,  and  the  rooms 
numerous,  too  much  so ;  they  look  deserted  and 
are  deserted,  saving  for  my  daughter  here, 
who  sometimes  finds  time  to  stray  into  a  room 
that  has  been  shut  up  for  a  long  time,  and  sings 
for  the  sake  of  hearing  the  echoes." 


168   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"Oh!  papa!"  remonstrated  the  daughter, 
"  each  room  receives  a  share  of  my  attention! " 

"  And  each  room  has  a  different  echo,  I'll  be 
bound,"  retorted  her  father. 

George  Croyden  knew  that  such  a  thing  as 
inviting  a  comparative  stranger  to  make  his 
stay  at  any  of  the  homes  in  Buenos  Ayres 
was  almost  without  a  precedent,  and  that  as  a 
rule  the  daughters  of  the  household  were  put 
under  such  restraint  that  they  were  seldom  left 
out  of  the  espionage  of  their  parents,  and  that 
few  of  them  even  conversed  with  a  suitor  until 
he  was  accepted  and  a  day  set  for  the  wedding ; 
therefore,  when  he  reached  the  mansion, 
George  said,  "  Colonel  Glanville,  this  pleasant 
walk  has  amply  repaid  me  for  any  little  effort 
I  may  have  made  in  your  behalf.  I  beg  leave 
to  retire  to  my  hostelry." 

"  Mr.  Croyden,"  replied  Colonel  Glanville, 
"  you  need  make  no  excuses  or  apologies  here ; 
we  are  not  natives,  and  although  my  wife 
has  more  or  less  Spanish  blood  in  her  veins,  she 
fell  in  love  with  me  simply  because  I  left  off 
masquerading.  I  was  never  guilty  of  keeping 
her  awake  during  our  courtship  by  playing  a 
guitar  underneath  her  window ;  I  went  straight 
to  her  heart ;  I  came !  I  saw !  I  conquered ! " 


'AN  INTRODUCTION  ABROAD     169 

"  Now,  Reginald,"  laughingly  interposed 
the  colonel's  wife,  "it  may  not  interest  Mr. 
Croyden  to  know  whether  you  made  yourself 
ridiculous  or  not." 

'  What  I  am  coming  at,  my  dear,  is  this : 
that  we  want  Mr.  Croyden  to  give  up  mas- 
querading, and  to  understand  that  he  is  wel- 
come to  the  hospitality  of  our  home  as  long  as 
he  desires." 

'  Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Croyden,"  answered  the 
lady,  "  don't  decline.  We  would  appreciate 
your  company  very  much." 

"  I  will  consider  your  extremely  kind  offer," 
George  replied. 

"  Dinner  at  six  o'clock,"  said  Colonel  Glan- 
ville,  "  and  if  you  are  not  here,  I  won't  like  it  a 
bit." 

"  I  will  join  you  at  dinner,"  George  replied, 
and  bowed  himself  away. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE   OF   MARGARET 

TO  an  attentive  mind  it  would  have 
been  significant  that  George  Croy- 
den,  who  had  grown  somewhat  care- 
less in  the  matter  of  dress,  took  par- 
ticular pains  with  his  toilet  that  afternoon, 
and  instead  of  waiting  the  near  approach 
of  the  appointed  hour,  wended  his  way  back 
immediately  to  Colonel  Glanville's  mansion, 
and  loitered  underneath  the  trees,  finally 
ascending  the  arched  stairway  leading  to  the 
spacious  verandah  which  fronted  the  second 
story  of  the  house.  There,  seated  in  a  huge 
rocker,  George  gazed  listlessly  on  the  vista 
before  him.  An  ample  lawrn,  studded  with 
tropical  shrubs,  extended  to  a  silver  stream 
which  divided  it  from  a  park  of  majestic  trees, 
whilst  further  in  the  background  the  elevated 
lands  were  picturesquely  dotted  with  herds  of 
cattle  pasturing  on  the  herbage  of  never- 
fading  green. 
Was  he  still  thinking  of  his  lost  love  of  eight 

170 


MARRIAGE  OF  MARGARET    171 

long  years  ago?  or  had  he  in  so  short  an  ac- 
quaintance become  enamoured  of  the  beautiful 
face  of  Margaret  Glanville? 

George  had  been  seated  thus  for  nearly  an 
hour  when  a  window  facing  on  the  verandah 
was  opened  and  Margaret  appeared. 

As  she  approached,  George  arose,  and  took 
the  hand  extended  to  him. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  disturbing  your  reverie, 
Mr.  Croyden,"  she  said  with  a  gladsome  voice, 
"  but  I  am  accustomed  to  obey  papa  in  all 
things,  and  he  commissioned  me  to  entertain 
you,  and  later  to  escort  you  to  dinner." 

"  I  could  wish  for  no  greater  happiness, 
Miss  Glanville,"  George  replied;  "  but  person- 
ally I  am  afraid  I  have  lost  the  art  of  being 
agreeable." 

"  I  have  had  little  occasion  to  improve  that 
art,  Mr.  Croyden,"  Margaret  commented,  "  for 
our  neighbours  are  very  far  apart,  and  their 
habits  are  not  like  ours.  I  suppose  I  may  be 
thankful  for  my  liberty,  although  never  having 
missed  it  I  can't  realise  how  the  young  ladies 
feel  who  are  compelled  by  custom  to  live  se- 
cluded lives.  Evidently  they  have  grown 
accustomed  to  it,  for  several  who  have  visited 
us,  chaperoned  by  their  parents  as  a  matter  of 


172   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

course,  are  delightful  girls,  and  very  beautiful, 
too." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  George  replied,  "  but  I 
have  had  no  opportunity  to  establish  it." 

"  But  in  your  own  country,"  Margaret  sug- 
gested. 

"  There  is  a  variety ;  but  outside  of  my  rela- 
tives I  knew  but  one  whom  I  considered  beau- 
tiful and  good.  Her  maiden  name  was  Cath- 
erine Penistan ;  she  became  my  wife,  and  after 
seven  months  of  supreme  happiness  she — she 
died." 

His  hesitation  in  finishing  this  sentence,  and 
his  sad  expression,  deterred  the  beautiful  girl 
beside  him  from  expressing  her  sympathy  until 
George  resumed,  "  She  was  found  drowned, 
and  I  have  exiled  myself  from  the  land  of  my 
birth  ever  .since." 

"How  very  sad!"  Margaret  replied,  partly 
rising  in  the  sudden  shock  it  gave ;  "  my  heart 
beats  in  sympathy  for  you." 

'  You  are  the  first  and  only  one  who  has  said 
as  much;  but  in  justice  I  must  add  that  no 
opportunity  was  afforded  my  relatives  to 
extend  their  sympathy." 

"Are  your  parents  alive?"  Margaret  in- 
quired. 


"  I  know  but  one  whom  I  consider  beautiful  and  good  " 


"  I  know  not,"  George  replied.  "  My 
father  objected  to  our  marriage  on  the  ground 
that  such  an  alliance  was  a  departure  from  any 
precedent  among  his  ancestors." 

"Is  your  father  so  prominent,  then?"  in- 
quired Margaret. 

"  Prominent  in  name  only ;  he  is,  or  was,  Sir 
Anthony  Croyden,  of  Croyden  Manor." 

"  And  your  wife,  sir?  " 

'  Was  the  daughter  of  the  Reverend  How- 
ard Penistan,  Rector  of  East  Lope." 

"  It  is  very  sad,  and  grieves  me  very  much," 
the  young  lady  replied. 

Further  conversation  was  stopped  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  Colonel  Glanville,  who  also  came 
out  of  the  window,  and  laughingly  remarked, 
"  Well,  who  is  the  best  talker?  " 

"  Papa,  Mr.  Croyden  has  been  relating  some 
very  sad "  and  here  Margaret  hesitated. 

"Yes!  I'll  be  bound  he  has,  and  hasn't 
known  you  one  sunset  yet;  well,  come  to 
dinner!" 

After  dinner  they  all  seated  themselves  on 
the  verandah,  and  Colonel  Glanville  enter- 
tained his  visitor  by  giving  accounts  of  his 
youthful  escapades, — innocent  enough, — and 
of  his  courtship,  the  relation  of  which  seemed 


174    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

to  fill  him  with  delightful  memories,  for  he 
laughed  unceasingly. 

Colonel  Glanville  did  not  wait  for  George 
to  make  up  his  mind  to  come  to  stay,  but  with 
a  rapidity  of  action  characteristic  of  him,  he 
sent  to  the  hostelry  for  his  effects,  and  sum- 
marily installed  him  in  a  suite  of  rooms  over- 
looking the  lawn. 

George  did  not  resent  this  interference  with 
his  rights,  but  accepted  it  with  a  good  grace ;  in 
fact,  it  may  be  inferred  that  it  suited  him  to 
be  near  the  beautiful  girl  who  had  so  recently 
entered  into  his  life. 

In  order  to  relate  how  George  and  Margaret 
became  deeply  attached,  and  how  they  acted 
towards  each  other,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
experience  it ;  but  the  days  flew  into  weeks,  and 
the  weeks  into  months,  and  they  were  one  long 
day  of  glorious  sunshine  and  love.  The  young 
couple  walked  around  the  estate,  or  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  read  together  and  talked 
together.  One  evening  as  they  were  seated  on 
the  verandah  enjoying  the  delightful  breezes 
and  listening  to  the  mavis  carolling  its  love 
song,  George  took  Margaret  by  the  hand  and 
said,  "  Margaret,  do  you  think  you  could  learn 
to  love  me?" 


MARRIAGE  OF  MARGARET    175 

Margaret  looked  at  him  earnestly  and 
answered,  "  If  there  is  room  for  additional 
learning,  yes ;  but  I  fear  I  have  been  too  apt  a 
pupil.  First  you  interested  me  in  your  lost 
wife,  so  that  I  love  her  memory ;  and  you  have 
gradually  insinuated  yourself  into  my  heart, 
so  that  I  feel  the  daily  need  of  your  presence." 

"  And  you,  my  dear  Margaret,  have  so 
wrought  upon  my  heart,  that  the  love  for  my 
lost  wife  has  become  merged  into  a  deeper  love 
for  you."  He  then  bent  over  and  kissed  her, 
kissed  her  for  the  first  time  during  all  those 
delightful  walks  and  conversations. 

Margaret  became  startled,  and  blushed,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Is  it  customary  for  lovers  to  be  so 
demonstrative? " 

George  was  taken  aback,  and  showed  it  by 
his  downcast  look  and  hesitation.  "  I  can 
answer  for  nobody  but  myself,"  George  con- 
fusedly answered;  "  I  felt  I  must  kiss  you." 

"  Did  Catherine  Penistan  indulge  you  in  this 
respect? "  asked  Margaret. 

"  Not  until  after  we  were  engaged  to  be 
married,"  George  replied. 

"  Why  do  you  treat  me  differently?  "  Mar- 
garet inquired. 

George  bent  over  her,  and  kissing  her  again, 


176   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

said,  "  Let  this  kiss  signify  we  are  engaged, 
my  dear." 

How  the  days  and  weeks  rolled  by  more  hap- 
pily still ;  how  the  couple  were  eventually  mar- 
ried and  lived  constantly  like  lovers;  how  a 
son  was  born  to  them,  to  add  to  their  happiness ; 
how  they  continued  to  live  in  the  mansion 
with  its  numerous  rooms,  in  which  echoes  were 
still  heard,  as  in  the  days  before  George  Croy- 
den  put  in  an  appearance,  gives  only  an  epit- 
ome of  their  happy  lives. 

Ten  years  of  wedded  bliss  had  passed,  and 
might  have  continued  indefinitely;  but  the 
fates,  who  are  always  at  work  to  even  up  the 
balance,  interfered. 

Only  one  event  in  all  those  ten  joyous  years 
tended  to  disturb  the  equanimity  of  the  house- 
hold. Colonel  Glanville,  after  a  long  illness, 
had  joined  his  fathers.  There  was  a  period  of 
deep  sorrow,  but  its  intensity  was  materially 
softened  by  the  Colonel's  happy  forethought 
in  constantly  reminding  them  that  the  sorrow- 
ful parting  must  come,  not  only  to  him,  but  to 
all ;  that  beauty  failed,  and  bright  eyes  became 
dim;  but  that  love,  true  love,  was  all  that 
humanity  might  hope  to  keep  alive. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE  DISCOVERY 

ONE  day  Margaret  was  conversing 
with  George  over  the  probability  of 
his  parents  being  alive,  and  solicit- 
ous  for  her  husband's  happiness, 
and  thinking  that  she  would  have  a  pleasant 
surprise  in  store  for  him,  she  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing letter : 

"BUENOS  AYRES,  February  14,  1867. 
"  To  the  Postmaster  at  East  Looe,  Cornwall: 

"  SIR. — Will  you  be  good  enough  to  inform  the  writer 
if  Sir  Anthony  Croyden  and  Lady  Croyden,  his  wife, 
are  still  alive,  and  very  much  oblige, 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"  MARGARET  GLANVILLE." 

Margaret  used  her  maiden  name  so  as  to 
avoid  suspicion,  and  the  loving  wife  passed 
the  six  weeks  or  so  which  would  elapse  before  a 
reply  could  be  received,  in  secret  exultation  over 
the  pleasant  surprise  she  would  have  for  her 
husband. 

177 


178   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

The  answer  came  promptly,  as  ill  news  gen- 
erally seems  to  do. 

"POST  OFFICE,  EAST  LOOE,  CORNWALL,  March  2,  1867- 
"  MADAM. — Replying  to  your  letter  of  the  14th  ulto. 
Sir  Anthony  Croyden  is  alive  and  well;  as  also  are 
his  daughter-in-law  and  granddaughter,  the  wife  and 
daughter  respectively  of  his  son  George,  who  mysteriously 
disappeared,  under  circumstances  leading  to  the  belief 
that  he  was  drowned,  a  few  months  after  his  marriage. 

"  Lady  Croyden  died  through  grief  at  her  son's  loss, 
shortly  after  his  disappearance. 

"  I  am,  Madam,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  SAMUEL  GUY,  P.  M." 

When  this  letter  was  delivered  to  Margaret, 
she  went  secretly  to  one  of  the  rooms,  unused 
saving  for  the  echo,  and  with  a  heaviness  at 
heart  which  foreboded  evil  portent,  she  began 
to  read.  Her  hands  trembled  violently  as  she 
finished,  and  an  echo  resounded,  such  as  was 
never  before  heard  in  that  house;  such  sounds 
of  grief  and  lamentation,  not  piercing,  but 
moaning  and  sighing,  like  the  zephyrs  through 
the  pines;  grief  had  taken  hold  of  the  vital 
chords  of  the  heart,  and  was  tuning  them  to  the 
breaking  point. 

Uplifting  her  arms  in  the  depth  of  her 
agony,  she  cried,  "Oh!  my  God!  what  shall  I 


THE  DISCOVERY  179 

do !  what  shall  I  do !  She  is  alive !  and  a  daugh- 
ter also!  and  I!  what  am  I?  Merciful  father, 
help  me !  This  is  truly  the  pleasant  surprise  in 
store  for  him;  but  for  me,  nothing  but  death 
awaits!" 

The  echo  resounded,  "  Nothing  but  death 
awaits." 

The  echo's  refrain  startled  her,  and  she 
turned  her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  sound ; 
then  she  renewed  her  agonised  cry. 

;<  Why  did  I  write?  To  ruin  my  own  happi- 
ness and  that  of  our  boy?  George  would  never 
have  known ! " 

The  echo  repeated,  "  Never  have  known." 

And  in  her  great  distress,  the  devil  entered 
and  tempted  her;  "George  would  never  have 
known;  he  need  not  know  now;  destroy  the 
letter!" 

But  there  was  no  response  in  her  heart,  or 
echo  from  the  room,  to  this  great  temptation. 

"George  must  know;  he  shall  know!"  she 
cried;  and  immediately  she  applied  her 
thoughts  in  preparing  a  way  to  support  the 
great  sorrow  which  was  to  be  her  lot  from 
thenceforth ;  but  the  shock  had  been  too  great, 
and  she  fell  unconscious  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE    REVELATION 

GEORGE   had  missed    her,  and  the 
numerous  rooms  were  echoing  to 
his  call,  "  Margaret,  my  beloved, 
where  art  thou?  "  But  the  dreamer 
never  heard.     He  finally  came  to  the  room 
in  which   she  lay,   and   seeing  her   prostrate 
form,    and    fearing    some    dreadful    mishap, 
he    rushed    to    her    and    raising    her    in    his 
arms,  exclaimed,  "My  darling!  what  is  the 
matter?" 

The  impulse  awakened  Margaret  to  the  real- 
isation of  her  awful  position,  and  she  ex- 
claimed, "  George!  let  me  die!  I  am  ruined!  I 
am  lost!" 

"Tell  me,  my  love!  what  has  happened?" 
No  answer  forthcoming,  George  pressed  her 
fondly  to  his  bosom  and  kissed  her. 

Seeing  the  letter  on  the  floor,  Margaret 
stooped  and  picked  it  up,  and  as  she  tottered 

180 


THE  REVELATION  181 

towards  a  chair,  she  placed  the  missive  in  her 
bosom. 

George  followed  the  movement  with  a  star- 
tled look.  The  thought  momentarily  swept 
through  his  brain,  "  Had  anybody  conspired  to 
ruin  his  happiness?"  No,  no!  He  instantly 
banished  the  unholy  thought;  no  one  could 
come  between  him  and  his  great  devotion  to 
her. 

At  last  Margaret  fortified  herself  for  the 
unhappy  duty  which  lay  before  her,  and  as  she 
studied  George's  countenance,  she  introduced 
the  subject  by  saying,  "  I  have  some  news  to 
relate,  George,  that  will  awaken  happy  remem- 
brances in  your  heart,  but  which  has  already 
blighted  my  happiness." 

"Oh!  stop,  my  dear!"  George  exclaimed; 
"  nothing  shall  ever  bring  me  happiness  that 
will  lessen  yours." 

'  You  know  not  the  import,  George ;  sit 
down  and  let  me  talk  to  you. 

'  The  account  you  gave  me  of  your  battle 
with  the  stranger,  and  of  your  finding  yourself 
with  the  gipsies  after  your  recovery,  was 
graphic  enough,  but  it  never  occurred  to  me 
until  this  moment  that  you  are  unable  to  sub- 
stantiate the  truth  concerning  Catherine's 


182    THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

death,  because  you  continued  with  the  gipsies 
until  just  before  you  left  England.  I  know 
the  matter  is  painful  to  you  to  revert  to,  but  for 
my  sake,  kindly  give  your  version  of  the  case 
over  again." 

George  instantly  surmised  that  something 
dreadful  was  about  to  be  revealed  to  him,  for 
he  looked  at  Margaret  intently,  and  she  gazed 
upon  him  in  return,  with  a  sad  countenance. 

"  My  dear  Margaret,  I  have  related  to  you, 
truthfully,  every  particle  of  my  history  from 
the  time  I  was  a  boy ;  and  not  one  thing,  good 
nor  trifling,  have  I  omitted." 

"  I  believe  you,  George,"  said  the  unhappy 
woman,  "  but  tell  me  how  you  learnt  that  Cath- 
erine was  dead." 

George  realised  the  truth  now,  and  with  his 
voice  choking  with  fear,  he  answered,  "  The 
gipsy  woman  informed  me,  when  I  was  help- 
less, and  afterwards  led  me  to  a  newly-made 
grave,  stating  it  was  Catherine's,  and  I  wept 
over  it." 

"I  am  sure  you  did,  George."  Then  pro- 
ducing the  fatal  letter  from  her  bosom,  she 
placed  it  in  his  hands,  saying,  "  .The  gipsy  lied 
to  you." 

George's  hands  trembled  so  violently  as  he 


THE  REVELATION  183 

read,  that  he  had  to  place  the  letter  on  his  knees ; 
and  as  he  finished  reading,  and  realised  its 
awful  import,  he  placed  both  hands  to  his  tem- 
ples, and  with  a  cry  of  despair,  fell  forwards 
upon  the  floor. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

MUTUAL  EXPLANATIONS 

A;oon  as  Margaret  had  revived  him, 
she  assisted  him  to  a  couch,  and, 
locking  the  door  of  the  room,  and 
secreting  the  letter,  she  sat  beside 
him,  holding  his  hands  in  hers,  and  tried  to 
console  him,  saying,  "Never  mind,  George; 
it  is  all  a  horrible  mistake,  but  it  need  con- 
cern nobody  but  our  two  selves,  and  Catherine, 
of  course." 

George  sorrowfully  replied,  "  It  is  too  late 
now,  Margaret.  I  will  never  leave  you." 

"  Now,  George,  stop  and  consider;  if  it  had 
been  me  instead  of  Catherine,  would  you  for- 
sake me,  knowing  that  I  had  remained  true  to 
you?  And  I  am  sure  that  you  loved  Cather- 
ine's memory  very  deeply  before  I  became 
the  unlucky  mark  of  your  affection." 

"  Oh !  don't  be  cruel,  Margaret !  I  am  inno- 
cent of  any  wrong  intentions." 

'  Yes,  George,  and  I  am  afraid  our  talk  on 

184 


MUTUAL  EXPLANATIONS    185 

the  subject  will  end  unhappily  for  both,  unless 
we  duly  consider  what  we  have  to  say.  As  we 
know  the  worst,  let  us  carefully  plan  how  to 
act,  and  we  will  discuss  matters  to-morrow. 
Let  us  throw  aside  any  appearance  of  despair, 
so  that  my  mother  may  not  be  made  unhappy. 
It  is  my  intention  to  keep  the  matter  secret 
from  her ;  and,  sad  as  it  is  to  say,  I  am  glad  that 
papa  is  not  alive  to  discover  his  daughter's  un- 
happy degradation." 

In  the  evening  they  assembled  on  the  veran- 
dah as  usual,  and  the  song  of  the  mavis  was 
sung,  but  the  soul  of  its  music  had  fled.  So 
doleful,  indeed,  did  it  sound,  that  Margaret 
arose,  and  whispered  in  a  broken  voice, 
"  George,  my  darling,  I  bid  you  good-night. 
You  will  sleep  in  our  bridal  chamber  as  usual, 
and  I  will  take  the  room  adjoining  it,  so  that 
our  secret  may  not  be  discovered." 

George  mechanically  caught  her  by  the  arm, 
as  though  she  were  about  to  fly  from  him,  and 
said  with  a  choking  voice,  "  Margaret,  have 
you  discarded  me?  Will  your  heart  permit 
you  to  take  this  dreadful  step? " 

"  Hush!  George;  my  love  for  you  will  never 
change,  but  your  lawful  wife  is  alive,  and  you 
must  go  to  her!" 


186   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Margaret ;  I  can  never  leave 
you.  Let  us  forget  it,  and  live  together  as  we 
have  done,  or  I  shall  surely  die.  Catherine's 
grief  for  me  must  have  subsided  long  ago,  and 
my  daughter  I  never  saw.  Besides,  what  will 
become  of  our  dear  boy?  " 

"  I  love  you  the  same  as  ever,  George,  and 
my  heart  is  breaking  at  the  thought  of  losing 
you ;  but  knowing  that  Catherine  is  alive,  I  can- 
not be  guilty  of  any  unlawful  love,  and  of  de- 
ceiving her.  You  would  learn  to  despise  me, 
and  the  happy  life  we  have  lived  together  up 
to  this  time  would  no  longer  be  a  support  to  me, 
as  it  is  in  this  hour  of  trial." 

"  Oh!  my  love,  have  I  lost  your  attachment 
at  a  single  blow?  Don't  say  so,  Margaret.  I 
will  never  despise  you ! " 

"  Let  us  retire,  George,  and  we  will  both 
think  it  over  in  our  separate  rooms,  and  to- 
morrow decide  upon  what  steps  to  take.  Good- 
night." 

As  soon  as  Margaret  had  entered  the  house, 
George  arose  and  quietly  descended  to  the 
lawn,  and  went  in  a  direction  where  the  trees 
would  hide  him  from  view. 

Margaret,  who  remained  hidden  by  the  win- 
dow curtains,  witnessed  his  departure,  and 


MUTUAL  EXPLANATIONS    187 

silently  followed.  She  saw  him  put  his  arms 
against  a  tree  and  rest  his  head  upon  them,  and 
then  an  outburst  of  grief  awakened  the  still- 
ness of  the  night. 

"  Oh!  my  darling,  must  I  lose  you?  Must  I, 
after  sorrowing  long  years  for  her  whom  I 
thought  dead,  and  finding  you,  buried  that 
sorrow  in  our  great  love,  be  exiled  again  with 
double  sorrow  burning  at  my  heart?  I  cannot 
leave  thee,  Margaret;  and  if  thy  woman's 
heart  can  drive  me  from  thee,  mine  will 
surely  remain  true  to  thee,  for  it  will  cease 
to  beat." 

And  at  this  point  most  dreadful  sobs  escaped 
him,  and  placing  his  hands  to  his  heart,  he 
stepped  deeper  into  the  gloom,  as  though  to 
hide  his  sorrow  from  the  world. 

Margaret  watched  with  pitiful  eyes,  and  her 
bosom  rose  and  fell  like  the  swelling  of  the 
ocean,  for  she  dearly  loved  him ;  but  she  was  of 
noble  lineage,  and  mustering  courage,  she  ran 
after  his  retreating  figure,  and  calling, 
"George!  George!"  arrested  his  steps.  Then 
throwing  herself  into  his  arms,  she  exclaimed, 
"  George,  my  dear,  this  is  not  the  way  to  retain 
my  love ;  be  noble,  be  brave." 

'  You  ask  me  to  be  noble  and  brave,"  he  re- 


188   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

plied,  "and  at  one  stroke  you  have  deprived  me 
of  all  that  is  worth  living  for.  I  have  lost 
heart  and  faith,  and  with  it  courage  and  nobil- 
ity have  fled." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do,  George? 
You  would  not  demand  that  I  act  in  any  way 
unworthy  of  myself?" 

"  If  it  is  unworthy,  Margaret,  no.  Is  it 
not  enough  to  lose  your  fond  embrace? 
Would  it  be  too  much  to  expect  that  a  cold 
'  good-night '  might  be  supplemented  with  that 
token  which  denotes  affection,  though  it  must 
rest  there? " 

"  Oh!  George,  my  dear,  I  did  not  mean  it," 
she  said  between  her  tears.  "  I  shall  miss  you, 
too.  I  will  kiss  you  good-night  if  it  will  en- 
courage you  to  hope  until  you  become  recon- 
ciled to  the  changed  conditions." 

"  I  shall  never  leave  you,"  George  answered. 

"  Come,  George,  rest  to-night  and  we  will 
decide  to-morrow."  Then  she  put  her  arm  in 
his,  and  together  they  walked  sorrowfully 
towards  the  mansion. 

At  the  threshold  of  his  room,  Margaret  put 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  affec- 
tionately. George  pressed  her  to  his  bosom 
and  whispered  mournfully,  "  So  suddenly  to 


MUTUAL  EXPLANATIONS    189 

lose  you,  my  love,  and  forever."  And  they 
parted  as  man  and  wife  that  night. 

Neither  slept,  and  they  were  together  the 
following  day  much  as  they  had  ever  been. 

George  had  nothing  to  suggest  to  help 
straighten  out  the  unhappy  entanglement ;  but 
it  was  finally  arranged  that  they  would  at  once 
journey  to  England  together,  and  that  George 
should  visit  his  old  home,  and  have  ample  time 
to  accustom  himself  to  the  changed  conditions, 
and  to  make  himself  known  to  his  wife. 

Margaret  promised  to  remain  in  England 
to  give  him  moral  support  until  he  was  happily 
domiciled. 

Upon  arrival  in  England,  a  comfortable 
home  was  secured  for  Margaret  and  her  son 
at  Exeter,  and  kissing  them  an  affectionate 
but  sorrowful  good-bye,  George  left  them  and 
proceeded  to  East  Looe;  where,  in  order  the 
more  readily  to  conceal  his  identity,  he  as- 
sumed the  role  of  collector  of  rags  and  bones. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

BACK    TO    EAST   LOOE 

AER  leaving  the  court  room,  George 
Croyden  with  rapid  strides  reached 
St.  Pancras  station.  There  was 
something  about  his  hurried  actions 
and  wandering  eyes  that  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  an  officer,  who  carefully  scanned  his 
features. 

Trains  come  and  go  with  scarcely  any  inter- 
mission at  St.  Pancras.  One  was  now  ap- 
proaching the  platform  on  which  George  stood, 
and  the  officer  placed  his  hand  firmly  on  his 
arm,  saying,  "  Down  or  up,  sir? " 

George  gazed  upon  him  and  answered 
"  Down." 

"  Here's  your  car,  sir,"  and  he  locked  the 
carriage  door. 

Away  the  train  went  rushing  through  the 
foggy  city,  out  into  the  suburbs,  across  the 
dusty  roads,  until  its  course  lay  through  the 
green  fields;  and  after  a  few  hours  George 
Croyden  arrived  at  East  Looe. 

190 


B'ACK  TO  EAST  LOOE      191 

Stepping  upon  the  platform,  he  walked 
slowly  through  the  shady  lane,  as  though  in 
deep  thought.  Proceeding  past  the  old  man- 
sion grounds,  he  stopped  suddenly  to  look  at  a 
raven  perched  overhead. 

"  Croak!  croak! "  quoth  the  raven. 

George  quickened  his  steps  and  went  in  the 
direction  of  the  cliff  above  the  Black  Rock. 

Reaching  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  he  took  a  pic- 
ture from  his  bosom  and  gazed  upon  it;  then, 
holding  it  in  both  hands,  he  lifted  his  face  to 
heaven  in  the  attitude  of  prayer. 

His  guardian  angel  did  not  forsake  him, 
even  now,  for  as  he  stood,  a  bare- footed  urchin 
had  stolen  up  to  him,  dragging  a  basket  of 
bones. 

"  Say,  Mister,  ain't  ye  Rags  and  Bones? 
Ain't  ye  going  to  buy  of  us  any  more?  We 
uns  have  missed  ye." 

George  gazed  upon  the  lad  with  moistened 
eyes,  and  asked,  "  Where  is  your  father?  " 

"  Haven't  any;  father's  dead;  got  drowned." 

George  continued  to  gaze  upon  the  boy  for 
a  few  minutes,  as  if  weighing  in  his  mind  what 
he  had  said,  then  passed  him  a  coin,  and  return- 
ing the  picture  to  his  bosom,  with  bowed  head 
he  took  his  way  towards  the  little  cottage. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

AFTER    EIGHTEEN    YEARS 

CATHERINE  CROYDEN,  accom- 
panied by  her  daughter,  returned  to 
East  Looe  on  a  later  train.  Arriving 
at  the  mansion,  and  without  chang- 
ing her  traveling  costume,  she  requested  Caro- 
line to  await  her  return. 

Catherine  walked  briskly  towards  the  cliffs, 
and  looked  intently  among  the  rocks  beneath; 
and  finally,  as  though  afraid  of  making  some 
horrible  discovery,  she  gazed  upon  the  tumultu- 
ous sea  a  moment,  and  shuddered ;  then,  retrac- 
ing her  steps,  she  walked  towards  the  cottage. 

As  she  entered,  she  espied  her  husband 
seated  in  a  chair,  with  his  head  resting  on  his 
arms  on  a  table. 

Catherine  went  up  to  him,  and  placing  her 
arms  lovingly  around  his  neck  said,  "  My  long- 
lost  husband,  is  your  heart  lost  to  me? " 

He  put  his  arms  around  her  and  drew  her  to 

192 


AFTER  EIGHTEEN  YEARS    193 

him,  and  kissed  her,  but  did  not  answer;  his 
thoughts  were  too  much  troubled  to  speak  to 
her  at  that  moment. 

Catherine  knelt  beside  him,  and  nestled  her 
head  in  his  bosom,  until  the  fluttering  of  his 
heart  made  known  to  her  woman's  discernment 
that  she  had  surmised  aright;  that  he  was  wav- 
ering betwixt  love  and  duty. 

Still  she  said  not  a  word,  although  her  heart 
was  ready  to  break.  She  felt  that  her  husband 
was  not  to  blame.  Innocent  of  her  existence, 
his  heart  had  found  another. 

After  the  lapse  of  several  minutes  she  said 
quietly,  "  Will  you  speak  to  me,  George?  " 

Pressing  her  to  his  bosom,  he  said,  "  My  dear 
Catherine,  I  am  lost.  I  don't  know  what  to  do. 
I  feel  that  it  had  been  better  if  I  had  died  that 
night  along  with  the  stranger,  rather  than  have 
lived  to  cause  sorrow  worse  than  murder." 

;<  Who  is  she,  George?  Is  she  worthy  of 
your  love?  "  Catherine  asked. 

Ignoring  the  question,  George  continued, 
"  If  I  had  known  you  were  alive,  I  would  have 
flown  to  your  arms  from  the  uttermost  parts 
of  the  earth.  For  eight  years  I  mourned  for 
you,  and  at  last  your  old  love  reverted  to  me 
from  another." 


194   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  But,  my  dear,  is  her  love  so  much  better 
than  mine  had  ever  been?"  pleaded  Cath- 
erine. 

"  It  took  eight  long,  weary  years,  and  yet 
my  love  for  you,  Catherine,  was  still  fresh  in 
me.  How  is  it  possible,  then,-  for  me  to  aban- 
don the  new  love  in  a  moment;  how  is  it  possi- 
ble to  reconcile  myself  to  the  awful  fact  that 
she  can  be  no  longer  mine?  " 

"  Come  to  your  own  home,  my  dear,"  Cath- 
erine answered.  "  I  promise  not  to  intrude 
myself  upon  you.  There  in  the  room  in  which 
your  boyhood's  days  were  spent,  you  will  be 
able  to  collect  yourself  in  reverting  to  the 
happy  days  before  sorrow  came  upon  you." 

"  My  dear  Catherine,  don't  press  me  to  go ; 
have  patience  with  me  yet  a  little  while,  until 
all  the  wrongs  connected  with  my  life  have 
been  cleared  away.  I  feel  guilty  of  many 
things,  yet  they  have  all  come  about  without 
any  disposition  to  do  harm.  The  estate  is 
yours,  irrevocably,  as  long  as  you  live,  and  for 
our  daughter  afterwards.  Let  me  not  take  a 
step  that  might  embroil  you;  let  me  remain 
here  until  I  have  cleared  the  mystery  connected 
with  my  absence." 

"  Tell  me  now,  George,  or  I  will  surely  die — • 


'AFTER   EIGHTEEN   YEARS    195 

does  she  know  of  all  the  circumstances  attend- 
ing our  marriage? " 

"  Everything,  Catherine.  I  have  kept 
nothing  from  her;  in  fact,  she  made  the  dis- 
covery of  your  being  alive." 

"  Where  is  she  now?  " 

"  At  Exeter,  where  her  son  is  receiving  tui- 
tion at  one  of  the  colleges.  I  have  not  seen  her 
since  we  arrived,  and  I  have  been  so  persecuted 
that  I  have  not  written  to  her." 

'  You  made  mention  of  her  son,"  Catherine 
remarked  with  considerable  agitation. 

"  Our  son,"  George  replied. 

The  shock  this  news  conveyed  silenced  her 
for  a  few  minutes;  then  she  resumed,  "Does 
your  knowledge  of  her  disposition  lead  you 
to  believe  that  a  communication  from  me 
would  be  graciously  received?"  asked  Cath- 
erine. 

"  Her  disposition  is  much  like  your  own,"  he 
answered. 

Catherine  still  clung  affectionately  to  him, 
and  continued  her  pleading.  "  My  dear,  I  will 
be  no  obstacle  to  your  love.  For  eighteen  years 
I  have  loved  your  memory  as  of  old ;  this  love 
kept  afresh  should  have  decided  me  that  you 
were  alive.  I  often  dreamt  that  you  were, 


196   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

but  I  feel  that  my  love,  strong  as  it  is,  will 
never  take  the  place  of  your  later  love,  because 
your  old  love  for  me  has  become  merged  in 
that  love.  I  wish  I  had  died,  too." 

At  this  point  the  poor  woman  shed  bitter 
tears,  exclaiming,  "  Must  I  lose  you  again  for 
ever?  Was  my  love  ever  so  unnecessary  to 
your  existence  that  you  can  treat  me  thus? 

George!  George "  and  her  sobs  prevented 

her  from  speaking  further. 

The  unfortunate  man  pressed  her  still  closer 
to  his  bosom  and  kissed  her,  saying,  "  I  will  not 
leave  you,  Catherine.  I  seem  to  love  you  bet- 
ter than  ever ;  and  with  that  love  my  heart  still 
beats  for  her  who  came  to  me  when  all  the 
world  was  cold.  But  however  much  my  affec- 
tion is  beyond  my  immediate  control,  my  duty 
is  apparent.  I  will  not  fail  in  it.  Have  faith 
in  me,  Catherine,  and  I  will  try  to  forget  her 
for  your  sake,  but  you  must  help  me — you 
must  teach  me  how."  At  this  juncture  he  re- 
moved his  arm  from  her,  and  resumed  the 
position  in  which  she  first  found  him. 

The  throbbing  of  his  heart  could  be  dis- 
tinctly heard,  and  Catherine  again  clasped  him., 
saying,  "  Dear  heart,  don't  grieve ;  I  will  help 
you ;  I  will  try  to  be  happy  in  your  lives.  But 


rAFTER  EIGHTEEN  YEARS    197 

won't  you  come  home,  George?  You  need 
food  and  rest." 

"  Soon,  my  dear,  soon ;  let  me  alone  for  a  few 
hours  longer  so  that  I  can  collect  my  scattered 
senses.  I  feel  so  weighted  down  that  I  am 
lost." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  leave  you  alone, 
George? " 

"  I  have  wronged  you  both  unintentionally," 
he  answered,  "  and  I  want  to  think  upon  how 
to  act." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  to  cause  us  more  sor- 
row, George?  Promise  me  that." 

"  Surely  not,  my  dear." 

"  Say  you  will  not,  George." 

"  I  will  not !     You  will  find  me  here.'^ 

Catherine  kissed  him  and  walked  sadly  away 
from  the  cottage. 

Reaching  the  mansion,  she  went  to  her 
daughter  and  said,  "  Caroline,  I  have  been  at 
the  cottage  to  interview  your  father,  my 
long-lost  husband,"  and  then  she  burst  into 
tears. 

Caroline  clung  to  her  lovingly,  and  said, 
"  Mother  dear,  what  is  the  matter?  " 

"Oh!  my  child!  I  can't  tell  you  without 
breaking  my  heart.  He  thought  me  dead,  and 


198    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

his  love  for  me  is  lost.  After  all  these  years 
of  sorrow  and  affection  for  his  memory,  to 
have  him  appear  the  husband  of  another.  Oh, 
that  I  had  died!  My  child,  you  have  never 
had  a  father." 

"  Dear  mother,  don't  worry  on  my  account. 
You  have  been  everything  to  me,  and  I  never 
knew  it  was  essential  to  my  happiness  to  have 
a  father." 

'  Yes,  my  dear ;  but  my  happiness  has  been 
centred  in  the  one  fond  memory  of  him." 

"  Don't  grieve,  mother  dear.  We  will  live 
for  each  other,  as  we  have  done." 

"  It  is  changed,  Caroline.  I  have  seen  my 
husband  alive,  and  he  belongs  to  me." 

;<  Won't  he  come  to  you?" 

'  Yes,  oh  yes,  he  will  come ;  but  his  love  I 
want.  His  heart  is  not  his  to  give." 

Caroline  could  say  nothing  in  reply.  She 
was  too  young  and  inexperienced  in  affairs  of 
the  heart  to  know  what  deep  affection  meant; 
so  she  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  at  the 
floor.  Finally  an  idea  struck  her,  and  she  said, 
"  Mother,  let  me  go  to  him ;  it  is  right  that  I 
should  become  known  to  him." 

Catherine  looked  at  her  beautiful  daughter, 
with  all  her  freshness  of  youth  and  hope,  and 


AFTER  EIGHTEEN  YEARS    199 

wondered  why  the  thought  had  not  intruded 
itself  before ;  so  she  answered,  "  Go  to  him, 
my  dear,  and  take  a  basket  of  lunch  along  with 
you,  because  he  has  evidently  fasted  for  a  long 
time." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

FATHER     AND     DAUGHTER 

TAKING  the  basket  of  lunch,  Caro- 
line kissed  her  mother  and  proceeded 
on  her  way  to  the  cottage  with  a  pal- 
pitating heart. 

From  childhood  up,  the  only  persons  she  had 
known  were  her  mother  and  grandparents  and 
the  servants. 

The  mother's  great  sorrow  had  made  her 
lead  a  secluded  life  for  several  years,  and  when 
her  daughter  was  old  enough  she  shared  her 
solitude. 

No  father's  smile  or  mild  reproof  had  ever 
charmed  her  heart  or  depressed  her  spirit,  and 
it  was  with  considerable  misgiving  and  hesita- 
tion that  she  at  last  halted  at  the  cottage  door. 
Caroline  had  seen  her  father  at  the  trial,  and 
noticed  his  saddened  countenance ;  but  her  chief 
effort  was  in  attempting  to  reconcile  him  with 
Rags  and  Bones,  whom  she  had  frequently 

200 


"She  saw  her  father  kneeling  by  the  bedside  with  his  face 
in  his  hands " 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER    201 

i 

seen  plying  his  calling  of  rags  and  bones  col- 
lector. 

As  she  journeyed  to  the  cottage  she  tried 
to  think  upon  something  suitable  to  say,  but 
she  could  not.  She  never  knew  a  father's  love, 
and  her  father  had  never  spoken  to  her  as  such. 

Caroline  remained  at  the  door  hesitating, 
then  reflecting  upon  her  mother's  sorrow,  she 
opened  the  door  and  timidly  peeped  in.  She 
saw  her  father  kneeling  by  the  bedside  with  his 
face  in  his  hands,  and  just  at  that  moment  he 
was  lifting  his  voice  to  his  Maker,  thus : 

"  O  Thou,  who  knowest  the  heart,  look  down 
with  mercy  from  Thy  Holy  Temple  upon  Thy 
servant,  who  is  bowed  down  with  anguish  too 
grievous  to  be  borne ;  and  as  Thou  in  Thy  infin- 
ite wisdom  didst  guide  my  feet  o'er  moor  and 
fen  and  crag  and  torrent,  so  shed  Thy  light 
upon  my  more  darksome  way,  which  chosen  in 
garish  day  pointed  not  to  the  impending  gloom 
beyond;  that  I  may  enter  the  path  where  duty 
lies,  which  love's  hand  beckoning  from  a  fairer 
shrine  blinds  from  my  view.  Deal  mercifully 
with  her  whose  love  is  lost  to  sight,  and  grant 
that  we  may  meet  again  in  endless  day,  where 
patient  hope  is  crowned  with  everlasting  love." 

Caroline's  entrance  was  not  heard  by  the 


202   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

praying  man,  so  she  stood  spellbound,  watch- 
ing and  listening  to  her  father's  words,  and 
when  he  concluded,  and  arose  and  discovered 
her,  she  almost  dropped  her  basket.  Finally 
she  stammered,  "  I  am  Caroline,  sir." 

Her  father  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  kiss- 
ing her  affectionately,  said,  "  My  dear  daugh- 
ter, my  long-neglected  darling,  can  you  forgive 
your  unfortunate  father? " 

Caroline  answered,  "  I  am  ignorant,  sir,  of 
any  harm  you  may  have  done  me." 

"  Don't  you  know,  my  darling,  what  I  have 
done? " 

"  I  know  that  my  mother  is  very  unhappy, 
and  that  it  has  all  come  about  since  my  grand- 
father's death;  before  that  we  lived  very  hap- 
pily together,  although  mamma  was  always 
very  sorrowful." 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  it's  a  sad,  sad  world,  and  sor- 
row comes  about  without  our  desire  to  make 
it." 

Caroline  changed  the  subject  by  saying, 
"  Papa,  I  have  brought  some  luncheon ;  will 
you  try  to  eat  something?  " 

Her  father  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

Caroline  then  spread  the  repast  upon  the  lit- 
tle table,  and  taking  her  father  by  the  arm  led 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER    203 

him  gently  to  it.  He  attempted  to  eat,  more  to 
gratify  her  than  to  appease  his  appetite,  for 
that  seemed  to  have  left  him.  Caroline  noticed 
this,  and  stepping  up  to  him  and  throwing  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  said,  "  My  dear  papa,  I 
have  not  missed  you  because  I  never  knew  you ; 
but  mother,  who  has  always  cherished  your 
memory,  feels  your  lost  love  so  keenly  that  she 
is  not  the  same  person  to  me.  Come  home  with 
me,  dear  papa,  for  her  sake.  I  fear  she  will 
grieve  and  die,  and  then  I  shall  be  left  alone." 

"  Am  I  nothing  to  you,  Caroline? "  the  un- 
fortunate man  asked. 

"Oh!  yes!  yes!"  Caroline  hastily  qualified; 
"  I  shall  try  to  love  you,  but  I  suppose  it  must 
come  gradually.  I  hardly  know  what  to  love 
you  for,  yet." 

"Oh,  is  it  so?"  the  poor  man  sighed. 

"  I  will  begin  to  love  you  at  once,"  Caroline 
timidly  ventured,  "  if  you  will  come  home  with 
me."  ' 

"Yes,  I  will  come,  my  dear.  Take  me  to 
my  room,  the  room  of  my  boyhood.  I  will  be 
more  at  ease  there.  I  am  strange;  I  feel  it, 
and  I  suppose  your  poor  mother  feels  it.  I 
don't  mean  to  be  so,  but  I  feel  like  you — it 
must  come  gradually." 


204   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Caroline  took  his  arm,  and  father  and 
daughter  wended  their  way  to  the  mansion. 
Caroline  was  too  old  to  ask  childish  questions, 
and  not  old  enough  nor  familiar  enough  to 
enter  upon  a  conversation  touching  what  was 
nearest  his  heart ;  so  she  remained  silent,  happy 
in  the  thought  that  her  mother  would  be 
pleased. 

They  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
cottage  when  two  urchins  came  towards  them 
tugging  a  basket  of  bones.  Caroline's  face 
grew  crimson,  and  she  was  about  to  shake  her 
head  at  them;  but  the  boys  failed  to  identify 
their  old  friend,  and  possibly  observing  the 
flush  on  his  daughter's  cheeks,  he  passed  with- 
out noticing  them. 

George  Croyden  passed  through  the  grounds 
with  his  daughter,  and  reaching  the  hall  door, 
they  entered,  Caroline  still  clinging  to  him,  and 
leading  him  up  the  stairway,  until  he  reached 
his  room. 

As  Caroline  started  to  open  the  door,  he.  said, 
"  Not  yet,  my  child.  Show  me  your  room." 

Caroline  led  him  to  a  room,  and  said,  "  This 
room  is  also  my  mother's  room;  we  have  never 
been  separated  from  each  other  since  I  was  a 
child." 


FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER    205 

He  sighed. 

"  And  this  room  was  grandpa's,"  she  said, 
"  poor  grandpa  died  in  it." 

"  I  know,  my  dear,"  he  replied. 

"Mother  told  you?" 

"  I  was  here." 

Caroline  looked  at  him  inquiringly  and 
somewhat  timidly. 

*  Yes,  my  dear,  I  stole  into  this  room,  and 
spoke  to  my  father  before  he  died;  he  recog- 
nised me." 

Caroline  looked  at  him  in  anguish,  fearing 
for  his  sanity,  and  then  led  him  to  his  room. 

As  Caroline  opened  the  door,  her  father 
stood  on  the  threshold  and  gazed  around  the 
room.  Not  a  thing  had  been  disturbed  since 
the  day  he  left,  prior  to  his  marriage  with  Cath- 
erine Penistan.  His  mother  had  scrupulously 
kept  the  key,  and  after  her  death  Sir  Anthony 
Croyden  directed  that  his  lost  boy's  room  be 
left  undisturbed. 

How  fond  recollections  of  his  boyhood  must 
have  flitted  across  his  vision;  what  glorious 
days  when  nothing  marred  his  happiness,  and 
everything  was  like  a  dream! 

He  entered  and  sat  in  a  rocking  chair,  but 
still  gazed  about  him  as  though  longing  to 


206   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

dwell  upon  the  memory  of  his  youth;  and 
finally,  having  surfeited  himself  therewith,  he 
said,  "  Caroline,  kindly  send  me  a  pitcher  of 
water,  and  a  glass." 

Caroline  returned  with  the  water,  and  her 
father  drank  deeply. 

Caroline  took  a  seat  in  the  room,  simply  to 
show  a  desire  to  share  her  father's  company, 
but  the  introduction  had  come  so  abruptly  that 
she  said  very  little,  beyond  answering  a  few 
simple  questions.  Her  father  seemed  too 
much  depressed  to  commune  with  her. 

As  the  night  drew  on,  Caroline  lit  a  lamp, 
and  her  father,  who  had  grown  restless,  said: 
"  Caroline,  my  dear,  kiss  me  good-night." 

Caroline  embraced  him  affectionately,  but 
instantly  drew  back,  saying,  "  Papa,  how  warm 
you  are ! " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  responded,  "  I  am  burn- 
ing up  with  fever.  I  need  rest,  leave  me,  my 
darling." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  PATIENT 

CAROLINE  hastened  to  her  mother, 
and  explained  her  father's  condition, 
and  Catherine  went  immediately  to 
her  husband's  room,  and  knocking, 
entered    without    waiting    for    a    response. 
Going  up  to  him  and  kissing  him,  she  said: 
"  George,  my  dear,  you  need  rest  and  care, 
you  have  been  careless  of  your  health  of  late; 
let  me  send  for  the  doctor  so  that  he  can  pre- 
scribe for  you." 

"  No !  no ! "  he  replied  hastily,  "  I  need  only 
rest.  Oh!  will  I  ever  rest?" 

Catherine's  bosom  heaved  with  anguish;  it 
was  not  necessary  for  her  to  doubt  the  mean- 
ing of  the  last  remark. 

"  Go  to  bed,  my  dear,"  she  answered,  "  and 
I  will  prepare  a  cooling  draught  for  you." 

When  Catherine  returned,  she  found  her 
husband  in  bed;  he  had  thrown  the  coverings 

207 


208   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

back  from  his  chest,  as  though  the  combined 
weight  and  heat  were  oppressive.  His  hands 
lay  on  the  coverlid. 

Approaching  the  bedside,  she  raised  his 
head,  and  assisted  him  to  drink.  His  body 
burned  like  coals  of  fire. 

As  Catherine  laid  his  head  back  on  the  pil- 
lows she  kissed  him  again  and  again.  "My 
poor,  dear  George,"  she  said,  "  you  are  very 
sick." 

She  left  the  room  and  summoning  the  butler, 
directed  him  to  go  for  the  doctor;  she  then 
sought  her  daughter  and  they  awaited  his 
arrival. 

The  little  doctor  soon  appeared,  and  Cath- 
erine explained  to  him  her  husband's  fevered 
condition,  and  said,  "I  want  you  to  remain 
here  to-night,  so  as  to  be  in  readiness,  in  case 
your  services  are  needed." 

" Yes!  yes!"  answered  the  doctor,  "but  I 
must  know  what  to  do;  you  say  he  is  burning 
with  fever,  I  must  know  what  kind  of  fever; 
dear!  dear!  we  have  no  fever  cases  in  East 
Looe,  nor  anything  else  for  that  matter.  Let 
me  go  to  him!" 

"  Softly,  don't  disturb  him." 

"  Yes,  softly,  I  won't  disturb  him." 


A   PATIENT  209 

They  both  went  on  tip-toe  to  the  door  of  the 
sick  man's  room;  it  had  been  left  ajar,  so  that 
they  might  hear  him  if  he  called. 

George  was  throwing  his  arms  about  and 
murmuring,  yet  he  appeared  to  be  asleep. 

The  doctor  stepped  to  the  bedside  and  felt 
the  sick  man's  pulse,  looking  at  his  watch 
the  while.  He  shook  his  head  at  the  result; 
then  he  slipped  a  fever  gauge  under  the 
patient's  arm-pit,  and  after  the  lapse  of  a  few 
minutes  took  it  out  and  examined  it,  then  turn- 
ing to  Catherine,  he  beckoned  her  from  the 
room. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  he  said,  "  but  your 
husband  has  an  alarming  attack  of  fever.  It 
will  take  a  few  days  to  decide  what  kind,  but 
you  must  have  an  attendant,  a  nurse,  to  wait 
upon  him." 

"  I  will  nurse  him,"  Catherine  replied. 

"You  cannot!  you  must  not!"  replied  the 
little  doctor. 

"I  can!  and  I  will!"  answered  Catherine 
emphatically. 

"  You  imperil  your  life,  and  that  of  your 
daughter,"  the  doctor  continued. 

"  My  daughter  will  keep  away." 

"  At  least  have  a  nurse  to  help  you." 


210   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

'  That  we  will  discuss  later." 

The  doctor  called  for  wine  glasses,  and 
water,  and  spoons ;  and  taking  sundry  powders 
from  his  grip,  he  proceeded  to  install  a  mini- 
ature apothecary's  shop  in  the  hallway  outside 
the  bedroom. 

"  I  will  take  him  in  hand  the  minute  he 
awakens,"  the  little  man  said. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  the  patient's 
moaning  became  groans,  and  the  tossing  of  his 
arms  developed  into  the  movement  of  his  whole 
body;  the  fever  sat  heavily  upon  him,  and  in 
his  agony  he  turned  from  side  to  side  and 
rolled  his  head  continuously. 

Catherine  placed  her  arms  around  him,  and 
laying  her  head  on  the  pillow  beside  his  own, 
whispered,  "  George,  my  dear,  the  doctor  is 
here." 

George  laid  a  hand  on  her  head,  and  patted 
it,  exclaiming  in  his  agony,  "  Let  me  die !  I'm 
lost  to  the  world! " 

"Don't,  my  dear,  don't  worry,  I  implore 
you,"  said  Catherine. 

Here  the  doctor  interposed,  saying,  "  It  will 
never  do,  madam;  he  must  be  treated  as  a  sick 
man  or  nothing  will  save  him." 

The  poor  woman  released  him  and  stood 


rA  PATIENT  211 

back,  and  the  doctor  administered  some  of  the 
liquid  medicine  he  had  prepared. 

'  You  had  better  prepare  for  a  long  siege," 
the  doctor  said  to  Catherine,  "  He  has  got  it 
badly,  whatever  it  is." 

Catherine  knew  what  it  was ;  she  knew  it  was 
brought  on  by  lack  of  proper  food,  worry,  and 
lost  affection,  and  as  she  reflected  upon  it  all, 
she  cried  bitterly. 

Taking  a  rocking  chair  in  the  hall,  directly 
outside  the  door,  so  that  she  could  see  the 
patient,  her  thoughts  became  wrapped  in  her 
unhappy  condition. 

As  the  night  advanced  the  patient  became 
delirious,  and  he  would  call  out,  "  Margaret, 
don't  leave  me,  come  back  to  me,"  interspersed 
with  calls  of  "  rags  and  bones." 

Catherine  entered  the  room  and  taking  one 
of  his  hands  tried  to  hold  it,  but  the  patient 
was  too  restless. 

The  doctor  administered  another  draught, 
and  the  sick  man  finally  fell  into  a  doze. 


G 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

MARGARET 

OING  to  the  library,  Catherine  re- 
mained in  a  thoughtful  mood  for 
several  minutes,  then  proceeded  to 
indite  a  letter  as  follows: 


"  CROYDEN  MANOR,  EAST  LOOE,  June  14,  1867. 
"  Mrs.  George  Croyden,  Exeter: 

"  DEAR  MADAM. — George  is  desperately  sick  with  a 
fever,  and  in  his  delirium   calls  for  you.     Your  presence 
may  save  his  life,  and  I  pray  you  to  come  with  all  speed. 
"  George's  home  is  open  to  you,  and  I  will  try  to  make 
you  welcome,  for  the  love  that  George  once  bore  me. 
"  Sincerely, 

"  CATHERINE  CROYDEN." 

This  letter  was  franked  for  special  delivery, 
and  late  in  the  day  a  telegram  was  received 
from  Exeter,  announcing  that  the  recipient 
was  on  her  way  to  East  Looe. 

A  carriage  was  in  waiting  at  the  station, 
with  Caroline  to  welcome  her.  As  soon  as  the 
train  arrived  Caroline  descended  from  the  car- 
riage and  went  unto  the  platform. 

Very  few  passengers  ever  made  East  Looe 

212 


MARGARET  213 

a  stopping-place,  and  there  was  no  difficulty  in 
identifying  the  beautiful  woman  who,  assisted 
by  the  conductor,  got  off  the  train.  Caroline 
stepped  up  to  her,  and  said,  "  I  am  Caroline 
Croyden;  mamma  sent  me  to  welcome  you." 

"  Oh!  my  dear,"  said  the  lady,  kissing  Caro- 
line, "  I  hope  I  may  take  this  liberty  with  you, 
and  I  also  hope  that  I  shall  prove  deserving  of 
your  mother's  very  kind  condescension.  I  am 
so  unhappy,  and  so  must  you  all  be." 

They  both  entered  the  carriage,  and  having 
become  seated,  the  lady  continued,  "Do  you 
know  the  circumstances  connected  with  me,  my 
dear?  " 

"I  know  there  is  something  unusual,  and 
that  mamma  is  very  unhappy,  and  papa  like- 
wise. I  heard  him  offer  such  a  sad  prayer, 
that  I  have  been  full  of  wonder  ever  since," 
replied  Caroline. 

'  Your  papa  is  very  tender-hearted,  my  dear, 
and  I  fear  this  sickness  will  be  severe  upon 
him;  but  I  hope  he  will  be  spared  for  your 
mother's  sake." 

Catherine  Croyden  was  a  woman  of  com- 
manding presence,  and  of  that  type  of  beauty 
which  carries  in  the  expression  the  depth  of  the 
soul.  Her  quiet  life  had  assisted  in  preserv- 


214   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

ing  her  youthful  appearance,  and  her  long  sor- 
sow  seemed  to  add  a  charm  to  her  natural 
graces,  instead  of  detracting  from  them. 
Knowing  her  own  charms,  it  was  perfectly 
natural  she  should  hope  to  excel  her  rival, 
and  it  was  with  a  palpitating  heart  that  she 
awaited  the  arrival  of  the  carriage.  As  Mar- 
garet's stately  form  entered  the  hall,  Catherine 
stepped  forward,  and  taking  her  by  both 
hands,  kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  saying,  "My 
heart  is  open  to  you,  my  dear." 

Margaret  was  not  slow  in  returning  the  salu- 
tation, and  replied:  "  I  am  sure,  my  dear,  that 
this  propitious  welcome  will  unite  our  hearts  as 
one.  I  always  loved  your  memory  when  we 
thought  you  dead;  I  love  you  more  than  ever 
now  I  realise  how  good  you  are." 

Catherine  escorted  her  to  the  room  prepared 
for  her  reception,  and  saying,  "  I  will  return 
in  a  few  minutes,"  went  to  her  own  room. 

Falling  on  her  knees  she  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  muttering  between  her  tears, "  There 
is  no  hope;  she  is  good  as  well  as  beautiful." 
She  remained  in  this  attitude  for  several  min- 
utes, and  then  arising,  she  straightened  her 
dishevelled  hair,  and  hiding  the  appearance  of 
grief,  returned  to  Margaret's  room. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

EARLY   PROGNOSTICATIONS 

MARGARET  had  changed  her 
travelling  dress  for  a  simple  cot- 
ton gown. 

Catherine  looked  at  her  sweet 
face,  and  said :  "  I  don't  wonder  that  George 
is  sick,  I  think  it  has  been  brought  about  more 
through  the  thought  of  losing  you  than  all  his 
other  troubles." 

Margaret,  in  evident  surprise,  replied :  "  You 
have  been  weeping,  my  dear;  pray  do  not  do 
so;  tears  cannot  avail  to  remedy  the  past;  it 
is  a  very  unfortunate  case  for  all  of  us,  and 
although  it  crushes  my  heart  to  lose  George 
after  living  with  him  so  happily  for  ten  years, 
it  is  both  his  duty  and  mine  to  see  that  your 
life  is  made  happy  after  your  long  forced 
widowhood.  It  was  all  a  mistake,  and  I  am 
sure  George  was  ignorant  of  your  being  alive, 
for  he  was  ever  dwelling  upon  your  memory." 

"  I    always    loved    his    memory    too,    and 

215 


216   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

thought  him  dead,"  Catherine  replied,  "  and 
much  as  I  love  him  now,  I  have  no  intention 
of  making  him  unhappy.  I  want  him  to  get 
well,  and  if  I  can  only  see  him  and  speak  to  him 
as  I  did  before  we  were  married,  I  will  be  sat- 
isfied; but  I  feel  he  will  never  be  the  same 
to  me  again." 

"  Does  he  act  indifferently  towards  you? " 
Margaret  inquired. 

"  He  is  so  perplexed  that  he  doesn't  seem  to 
know  what  to  do,"  Catherine  replied.  "He 
probably  realises  what  his  duty  is,  and  yet  his 
heart  is  not  his ;  in  other  words,  I  know  his  love 
is  so  intense  that  it  can  only  be  bestowed  upon 
one.  He  loves  me  in  memory — his  love 
towards  me  would  be  deeper  if  I  were  dead." 

"Oh!  my  dear,  don't  say  so;  George  would 
not  have  it  so :  he  is  too  noble  to  wish  anybody 
dead,  even  if  he  had  to  lose  all,"  Margaret 
replied. 

"  I  do  not  mean  that  he  wished  me  dead,  but 
that  with  all  his  great  love  centred  on  you,  he 
would  in  loving  you  think  of  the  love  I  had 
borne  him  once,"  said  Catherine. 

"Ah,  my  dear,  he  thinks  so  still,  he  never 
tired  talking  about  you,  but  we  will  see  after 
we  have  nursed  him  back  to  life." 


EARLY  PROGNOSTICATIONS       217 

The  two  women  then  walked  to  the  sick 
man's  room. 

The  little  doctor  having  no  patient  elsewhere 
had  taken  up  his  abode  at  the  mansion  and  took 
his  meals  with  the  butler.  He  was  now  asleep 
in  an  easy  chair  outside  the  patient's  room. 

Catherine  and  Margaret  passed  in  and  gazed 
on  the  sick  man,  who  was  sleeping  peacefully. 

Margaret  contented  herself  with  gazing 
upon  his  face  whilst  Catherine  took  his  hand 
and  remarked,  "  The  fever  is  still  heavy  upon 
him.  I  feel  that  all  we  can  do  for  the  present 
is  to  be  near  him  so,  in  case  he  calls,  we  can  go 
to  him.  In  his  first  delirium  he  repeatedly 
called  for  you." 

"Did  he  not  call  for  you  also?"  asked 
Margaret. 

"  Not  at  all,"  Catherine  replied. 

"  It  is  customary  for  fever  patients  to  forget 
those  they  love  and  call  upon  those  who  are  not 
so  dear  to  them,"  remarked  Margaret. 

"  It  is  very  considerate  of  you  to  say  so,  my 
dear,  but  George's  case  is  an  exception,"  re- 
plied Catherine. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE   VAGARIES   OF  A   FEVER   PATIENT 

IT  would  be  uninteresting  to  recount  the 
everyday  life  at  the  mansion  during  the 
ilhiess  of  George  Croyden.     The  fever 
developed  into  typhoid,  and  had  to  run 
its  customary  time  before  a  change  could  be 
expected.     Before  the  time  had  elapsed,  how- 
ever, the  patient  was  in  such  a  dangerous 
condition   a   specialist   was   summoned   from 
the  metropolis,  who,  after  remaining  until  the 
critical  period  was  over,  conferred  with  the 
local   doctor,    and   afterwards   informed   the 
ladies  that  everything  was  being  done  that 
could  be  done. 

On  several  occasions  when  the  patient  was 
delirious  he  called  in  loud  tones  for  Margaret, 
and  when  she  appeared,  at  Catherine's  urgent 
request,  and  took  his  hand,  he  quieted  down. 
At  other  times  he  would  gaze  quietly  on  Cath- 
erine, if  she  alone  were  present,  but  if  Mar- 
garet would  appear,  he  would  take  her  hand 

218 


VAGARIES  OF  A   PATIENT    219 

and  press  it,  and  draw  her  face  down  on  the 
pillow.  In  consequence  of  this,  Margaret  re- 
frained from  visiting  the  sick  room  unless  sent 
for,  and  she  spent  the  long  hours  in  conversing 
with  Caroline,  to  whom  she  became  greatly 
attached,  and  they  could  be  seen  daily  walking 
about  the  lawn,  their  arms  entwined  about  each 
other.  Sometimes  they  would  go  to  the  cliffs, 
and  then  Margaret  would  become  silent  in 
gazing  across  the  ocean,  and  at  such  times  her 
thoughts  would  be  carried  far,  far  away,  to 
another  home  across  the  seas,  where  her  life 
had  been  one  long  day  of  uninterrupted 
happiness. 

Catherine  and  Margaret  were  also  fre- 
quently together,  although  they  did  not  go 
beyond  sight  of  the  mansion,  lest  they  should 
escape  the  sick  man's  call.  They  acted  more 
like  affectionate  sisters  than  women  whose 
relation  towards  each  other  would  naturally 
create  the  greatest  antipathy. 

Understanding,  as  they  did,  the  exact  con- 
ditions which  brought  about  the  second  mar- 
riage, they  had  none  but  the  greatest  sympathy 
for  each  other ;  there  was  no  desire  to  cause  the 
slightest  pain  to  each  other,  and  their  united 
desire  was  that  George  might  live,  although  it 


220   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

was  not  difficult  to  realise  that  one  of  them  was 
to  love  in  secret  and  alone. 

There  was  no  reference  made  to  this,  how- 
ever; the  two  women  enjoyed  each  other's 
society  for  the  goodness  which  each  possessed, 
and  they  had  evidently  resolved  nothing 
should  interfere  with  that  happy  condition. 

During  the  sick  man's  ravings  the  cries  of 
"  Margaret,"  would  be  interspersed  with  "  rags 
and  bones,"  and  on  one  occasion  Mar- 
garet asked  Catherine  what  she  supposed  it 
meant. 

"My  dear,  I  would  like  to  spare  you  the 
explanation,"  Catherine  answered,  "but  it  is 
well  to  illustrate  that  a  sick  man's  ravings 
may  not  be  all  vagaries.  Some  months  ago 
East  Looe  was  surprised  by  the  apparition  of 
a  man  who  paraded  the  streets  on  certain  days 
calling  '  rags  and  bones,'  and  who  settled  down 
as  a  resident  of  the  village.  He  was  a  sort  of 
a  recluse,  nobody  could  get  him  to  converse  or 
even  to  give  his  name.  He  it  was  who  saved 
me  from  drowning,  he  it  was  who  came  into 
court  during  a  trial  to  test  the  validity  of  my 
marriage,  and  produced  the  missing  cer- 
tificate." 

"Oh!  say  no  more,  my  dear,"  interrupted 


VAGAEIES  OF  A  PATIENT    221 

Margaret,  "it  was  George  himself;  but  why 
did  he  assume  such  a  disguise? " 

"  It  was  his  great  love — for  you." 

"  But  can't  you  see  that  if  he  didn't  love 
you,  he  would  not  have  risked  his  life  to 
rescue  you  from  drowning,"  Margaret  replied. 

"  George  would  do  nothing  unmanly,"  said 
Catherine. 

After  this  the  two  women  became  wrapped 
in  thought. 

The  crisis  having  been  passed,  the  patient 
began  slowly  to  recover,  and  about  the  sixth 
week  the  fever  left  him  as  helpless  as  a  babe. 
His  flesh  had  dwindled  away  until  he  was  a 
mere  skeleton.  There  were  no  ravings  now, 
the  sick  man  was  perfectly  conscious.  It  would 
take  careful  nursing  yet  to  make  him  strong 
again.  His  long  fast  had  created  an  appe- 
tite so  ravenous  that  he  once  begged  for  sub- 
stantial food,  but  Catherine  informed  him 
gently  but  firmly  it  was  forbidden;  he  never 
asked  again. 

On  one  occasion  both  the  women  were  pres- 
ent at  his  bedside,  when  with  an  imploring  look 
he  asked  why  they  had  nursed  him  back  to  lif  e. 

"  So  that  you  can  enjoy  the  sunshine,  my 
dear,"  Catherine  replied. 


222   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"I  feel  I  will  never  enjoy  it  again,"  he 
answered. 

"  I  wouldn't  feel  that  way,  George,"  Mar- 
garet said;  " get  well  and  we  will  both  try  and 
make  your  life  happy." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  and  said: 
"  Can  you  ever  forgive  me,  Margaret?  " 

'  We  must  learn  to  forget  it,  George,  and 
hide  our  disappointment.  It  was  a  deplorable 
mistake." 

The  convalescent  buried  his  head  in  the  pil- 
lows and  moaned. 

After  a  few  days  in  which  the  patient  gained 
considerable  strength,  Margaret  asked  Cath- 
erine to  take  a  walk  with  her,  and  during  the 
walk  she  told  her  that  she  had  decided  to  return 
to  Exeter,  and  later  to  sail  to  her  home  in 
Buenos  Ayres. 

"Oh!  stay  with  us,  my  dear,"  Catherine  re- 
plied. "  I  will  not  be  jealous;  I  have  gotten  to 
love  you  more  than  I  can  tell." 

"It  can't  be,  my  dear;  George  is  your  law- 
ful husband  and  he  must  fulfil  his  duty 
towards  you,  and  although  I  love  him,  I  shall 
hide  it  for  your  sake." 

"  Don't  go,  Margaret,"  was  Catherine's 
response. 


Catherine  took  his  head  in  her  lap,  and  burst  into  tears  " 


ONE  day  Margaret  had  been  absent 
with  Caroline  in  visiting  the  old 
church  and  other  places  of  interest 
in  the  vicinity;  George  had  missed 
his  daughter,  and  arising  from  his  chair,  he 
tottered  over  to  Catherine,  and  kissing  her, 
said,  "  Has  Margaret  left  us? " 

"  No,  my  dear,  and  I  have  begged  her  to 
remain  with  us.'* 

He  kissed  her  again,  saying,  "You  good, 
kind  Catherine,  and  what  was  her  answer?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  she  will  not  stay." 

"  Beg  her  to  stay  a  while,  Catherine ;  I  cannot 
so  soon  forget  her ;  I  am  trying  hard.  Tell  her 
not  to  leave  me  yet,"  and  with  trembling  limbs 
the  unfortunate  man  sought  to  return  to  his 
chair,  and  fell. 

Catherine's  heart  was  already  full,  and  she 
sprang  forward  and  kneeling  beside  the  pros- 
trate man,  took  his  head  in  her  lap,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

223 


224   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

At  this  moment  Margaret  and  Caroline 
entered  the  hall.  Margaret  tried  to  escape  un- 
seen, but  Catherine  called  upon  her  to  help  her 
to  raise  him. 

After  assisting  George  to  his  chair,  the  two 
women  went  into  the  library,  and  Catherine 
explained  the  cause  which  led  up  to  George's 
fall,  and  said,  "  Margaret,  try  to  make  up  your 
mind  to  remain  here,  and  whatever  befalls,  you 
will  find  me  the  same  as  I  have  ever  been.  I 
only  desire  that  I  may  see  him." 

Margaret  promised  to  remain  a  few  weeks 
longer,  in  hopes  that  George  would  become 
reconciled  to  his  wife;  but  several  days  after- 
wards the  latter  came  to  her  and  said,  "It  is 
no  use  for  me  to  deceive  myself ;  George  loves 
you  so  desperately  that  he  can  never  be  any- 
thing to  me  but  the  sad-visaged  man  we  see 
him;  take  him  to  your  heart;  I  will  go  away 
with  my  daughter  and  try  to  be  happy  in 
knowing  that  I  am  not  an  obstacle  in  your 
path." 

:'You  do  not  know  me,  Catherine!"  Mar- 
garet answered.  "  Unless  George  changes  his 
conduct  towards  you,  I  will  return  to  my  home 
and  forget  him." 

"  Ah,  dearest,  you  know  not  what  you  say; 


it  is  impossible  for  him,  impossible  for  you.  I 
do  not  blame  George,  it  is  simply  beyond 
human  power  not  to  love  you." 

Margaret  disregarded  this  remark,  and  con- 
tinued: "  I  find  that  the  strain  is  too  much  for 
you,  too  much  for  me ;  we  must  part,  and  bitter 
as  the  pang  will  be,  we  must  know  the  worst. 
To-morrow  I  shall  arrange  to  confer  with 
George,  and  end  my  visit  here.  It  will  be  best 
for  all  concerned,"  and  then  the  unhappy 
woman  bent  over  and  wept  bitterly,  and  Cath- 
erine, throwing  her  arms  around  her  neck, 
shared  her  grief. 

Later  in  the  day  Margaret  was  seen  at  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  looking  across  the  waters. 
Whether  her  eyes  were  really  in  the  direction  of 
her  home,  which  lay  so  many  miles  across  the 
ocean;  whether  she  possessed  the  instinct  of 
the  birds,  we  can  never  tell,  but  her  thoughts 
were  on  that  home,  where — not  so  long  ago- 
such  tender  happiness  abounded.  She  would 
return  with  her  boy  to  that  home,  and  amid  the 
scenes  of  her  girlhood  try  to  outlive  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  present. 

The  following  day  Margaret  spent  in  watch- 
ing an  opportunity  to  find  George  in  such  a 
spot  that  she  could  converse  with  him  alone. 


226   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

She  knew  the  scene  would  be  an  unhappy  one, 
and  she  wished  it  to  be  sacred  even  from  Cath- 
erine's gaze ;  but  George  seemed  to  be  conscious 
that  some  evil  was  impending,  something  un- 
happy was  about  to  happen.  He  may  have 
discovered  it  in  Margaret's  eyes,  or  his  own 
heart  may  have  inspired  him;  but  he  carefully 
avoided  everybody  that  day.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon, however,  on  entering  the  hallway  and 
finding  Margaret  standing  there  alone,  he 
hurried  into  the  library;  Margaret  quickly 
followed,  and  on  entering  the  room,  found 
George  making  his  egress  through  the  window 
unto  the  lawn. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  she  ejaculated,  "  I  feel  that 
I  am  hounding  him  to  his  death.  I  must  leave 
without  speaking  to  him." 

That  night  George  retired  early,  and  Mar- 
garet went  to  his  room,  the  room  he  had  occu- 
pied alone  ever  since  he  had  arrived  at  the 
mansion.  Knocking  and  receiving  no  re- 
sponse, she  called,  "  George,  it  is  Margaret, 
may  I  come  in? "  Still  there  was  no  answer. 
She  opened  the  door  fearfully,  and  George 
stood  by  his  bed  looking  towards  the  door. 

As  Margaret  approached  him,  his  eyes  wrere 
riveted  on  hers;  he  seemed  to  know  what  her 


ONLY  A    WOMAN'S  LOVE    227 

errand  was,  for  he  said:  "  My  dear  Margaret, 
if  you  love  me,  don't  say  it;  if  you  don't  love 
me,  kill  me,  for  I  shall  surely  die.  Why  have  I 
escaped  the  angry  waves,  and  the  fever's 
fiery  breath,  if  it  is  to  die  a  death  more  ter- 
rible?" 

Margaret  sat  on  the  bed,  and  drew  George 
down  by  her  side,  then  placing  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  she  said:  "  George,  my  dear,  listen 
patiently  to  me.  Have  you  resolved  upon  any 
plans  for  the  future?  " 

George,  with  downcast  eyes,  shook  his  head, 
and  answered,  "  It  is  impossible." 

"  But,  my  dear,  we  can't  go  on  for  ever  thus ; 
you  must  remember  your  first  love,  it  is  your 
sacred  duty." 

"I  will!  I  do!"  the  unfortunate  man  re- 
plied. 

'  Your  wife  is  an  affectionate  woman,  and 
loves  you  devotedly,  and  your  daughter  Caro- 
line is  a  sweet,  lovely  girl." 

"  I  love  them  sincerely,"  George  replied. 

'  Think  of  her,  George,  left  as  a  young  girl, 
sorrowing  for  you,  and  remaining  true  to  your 
memory  all  these  long  years ;  consider  how  Car- 
oline, poor  girl,  was  brought  up  without  a 
father's  love.  Think  how  your  lawful  wife 


228   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

feels  at  the  knowledge  that  your  affection  is 
wavering." 

"Margaret,  I  have  thought!  for  months  I 
wandered  about  without  seeing  you,  trying  to 
follow  the  path  where  duty  lies,  but  the  heart 
stays  me;  I  love  them,  but  I  cannot  let 
you  go.  Catherine  was  my  wife  only  a  few 
months,  and  it  took  years  to  relinquish  her 
memory.  We  have  loved  and  cherished  each 
other  for  ten  long  years,  how  is  it  possible  for 
me  to  do  this  thing;  and  you,  Margaret,  can 
you  so  soon  forget  me?  " 

"  George,  my  dear,  listen!  I  shall  never  for- 
get you;  my  heart  is  breaking  whilst  I  talk  to 
you,  but  my  woman's  heart  sees  the  injustice  to 
your  wife,  too;  think  how  she  must  suffer;  let 
me  but  go  away  a  little  while,  and  you  will 
gradually  accustom  yourself  to  the  new 
conditions." 

"  Never,  Margaret;  don't  leave  me;  I  will  do 
better.  I  have  not  fully  recovered  yet.  Stay 
with  us,  so  that  I  can  see  you,  and  I  will  do  all 
you  wish." 

'  You  know  nothing  you  could  ask  of  me, 
George,  would  be  refused,  if  it  were  possible 
to  grant  it,  but  this  is  so  impossible." 

"Oh!  my  love!  don't  say  so!  I  can't  live 


without  you !  let  me  remove  to  the  cottage,  and 
you  and  Catherine  live  here  together ;  any  place 
will  do  for  me,  if  I  only  know  you  are  near." 

However  much  Margaret  had  steeled  her 
heart,  this  appeal  was  too  much  for  her,  and  she 
burst  into  tears,  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Dear  heart,"  she  said,  "  forgive  me.  I  do 
not  want  to  lose  sight  of  you  either,"  and  she 
promised  to  remain,  if  he  would  only  learn  to 
love  Catherine  more. 

"  I  will!  I  will!  at  once! "  the  unhappy  man 
promised. 

"  Seek  her,  George,  and  speak  kindly  and 
affectionately  to  her." 

"  I  will!  I  will! "  he  answered. 

She  pressed  his  hand  and  started  to  leave 
the  room ;  he  looked  upon  her  retreating  figure, 
and  called  after  her  in  a  reproving  voice, 
"Margaret!  is  that  all?" 

'  That's  all,"  she  replied,  and  hesitated,  for 
there  was  a  pleading  in  the  question  beyond  the 
meaning  of  words. 

Then  she  returned,  and  pressing  his  head  to 
her  bosom,  kissed  him  passionately,  saying, 
"  My  heart  will  never  change  towards  you  my 
dear,  take  courage."  Then  she  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

FAREWELL   SCENES 

WHATEVER  George's  ideas 
were  concerning  his  duties  to 
his  wife,  and  notwithstanding 
his  promises  to  Margaret  that 
he  would  fulfil  those  duties,  it  was  evident  that 
the  unfortunate  man  was  unable  to  carry  them 
out. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  he  had  a  willingness 
at  heart  to  be  affectionate  towards  her  on 
whom  his  first  love  had  been  bestowed,  but  the 
deeper  love  that  had  been  engrafted  in  him  for 
Margaret,  through  years  of  uninterrupted 
happiness,  could  not  be  effaced.  The  new  life 
had  so  entirely  absorbed  the  old  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  abandon  it. 

No  one  could  discern  this  clearer  than  Cath- 
erine, no  one  could  realise  it  better  than 
Margaret. 

It  was  painful  to  see  how  George,  after 
watching  Margaret  with  sorrowful  reflections 

230 


FAREWELL  SCENES          231 

at  heart,  would  attempt  to  be  gracious  to  Cath- 
erine. Once,  indeed,  he  kissed  her  in  Marga- 
ret's presence,  but  it  was  executed  in  such  a 
clumsy  manner  that  the  effect  on  both  indi- 
cated it  had  been  better  left  undone. 

George  and  Catherine  would  walk  together, 
and  they  would  have  a  common  interest  in  in- 
specting the  flowers,  or  discussing  those  mat- 
ters which  occur  in  everyday  life.  Catherine 
felt  it  was  useless  to  play  the  part  of  affec- 
tion with  him,  but  she  endeavoured  in  many 
ways  to  show  him  that  she  still  loved  him.  They 
appeared  to  feel  they  were  compelled  to  be 
close  together,  yet  the  one  having  a  secret  dis- 
position to  pull  himself  away. 

In  her  anxiety  to  convince  Catherine  that  she 
desired  her  uninterrupted  happiness,  Margaret 
was  anxious  to  find  an  excuse  for  leaving  Eng- 
land ;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  she  had  no  idea 
that  George  would  ever  love  his  wife  devotedly 
again. 

The  weeks  passed  by,  and  conditions  at  the 
mansion  were  about  the  same,  when  one  day 
Margaret  received  a  letter,  stating  that  her 
mother  was  very  ill,  and  that  if  she  desired  to 
see  her  alive,  she  must  hasten  home  without 
delay. 


232   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Margaret  showed  the  letter  to  Catherine,  and 
informed  her  that  the  time  had  arrived  for 
parting. 

"  But  for  your  duty  to  your  mother,  I  would 
never  consent  to  your  leaving  us,"  Catherine 
assured  her,  "  but  it  is  the  inevitable.  Some- 
thing tells  me,  however,  that  I  shall  never  see 
you  again,  but  if  anything  should  happen  to 
me,  Margaret,  take  George  to  your  heart  again 
at  once;  don't  let  him  suffer  longer  on  my 
account.  I  do  not  blame  him,  it  is  impossible 
for  him  to  change  his  love  from  you  to  me; 
his  love  for  me  was  deep  enough  once,  but  a 
few  hours  of  fateful  events  were  sufficient  to 
take  him  from  me." 

"  It  was  the  same  in  my  case,  my  dear  Cath- 
erine ;  I  no  sooner  received  word  that  you  were 
alive  than  we  became  separated  in  body,  but 
not  in  soul.  How  is  it  best  to  break  the  news 
to  George?  It  will  never  do  to  leave  without 
bidding  him  good-bye." 

"  It  would  have  been  better  for  you,  Mar- 
garet, if  you  had  never  learnt  that  I  was  alive, 
or  that  George  had  never  returned  to  me;  but 
I  know  the  goodness  of  your  heart,  and  that 
nothing  will  change  the  present  conditions  as 
long  as  I  live;  if  I  thought  otherwise  I 


FAREWELL  SCENES          233 

would  beg  you  to  take  George  along  with 
you." 

"  It  cannot  be,  my  dear  Catherine,"  Mar- 
garet replied.  "  George  is  your  lawful  hus- 
band, and  as  such,  bitter  as  the  pang  may  be  to 
him,  he  must  endure  it  just  as  you  have  borne 
your  sorrow." 

In  order  that  they  might  be  together  as 
much  as  possible  during  the  short  time  that 
would  elapse  before  they  parted,  Catherine  as- 
sisted Margaret  in  packing  up  such  necessary 
articles  as  she  would  require  on  the  voyage. 

Catherine  prevailed  upon  Margaret  to  have 
her  boy  brought  to  East  Looe,  and  the  butler 
was  despatched  with  a  letter  to  Queen's  Col- 
lege, Exeter,  explaining  the  necessity  of  his 
immediate  attendance,  another  missive  having 
been  mailed  to  the  faculty  giving  the  butler's 
credentials. 

When  the  boy  arrived  at  East  Looe,  it  is 
doubtful  whose  greeting  was  the  warmest,  for 
Catherine  took  him  in  her  arms,  and  hugged 
and  kissed  him  till  the  poor  boy  perspired,  then 
Caroline  came  in  for  her  share,  although  her 
embrace  was  more  gentle  and  of  shorter 
duration. 

As  soon  as  the  father  saw  him,  he  caught 


234    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

him  in  his  arms,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
were  together  underneath  the  rookery,  and 
George  was  explaining  to  his  son  the  habits  of 
those  noisy,  gregarious  birds.  Then  he  took 
him  to  the  cliffs,  and  was  evidently  explaining 
to  his  son  how  he  had  plunged  headlong 
from  it  in  order  to  save — a  lady.  Then  he 
took  him  to  the  beach  and  showed  him  the 
limpets  and  mussels  adhering  to  the  rocks ;  they 
hunted  for  periwinkles  and  hermit  crabs,  and 
lured  the  shrimps  from  their  hiding-places  in 
the  shallow  pools  left  by  the  receding  tide; 
there  were  lots  of  interesting  things  to  be 
found  on  the  beach  at  East  Looe,  that  a  boy 
at  Buenos  Ayres  would  never  dream  of.  Then 
George  took  him  to  the  rope-walk,  and  through 
the  old  church,  and  to  the  top  of  the  old  tower ; 
it  was  daylight,  and  the  old  clock  ticked  in  its 
proper  place,  and  the  bells  were  bells  and  did 
not  look  like  decapitated  Amazons,  and  the 
ropes  dangled  as  ordinary  ropes  should.  It  is 
only  in  the  darksome  hours  of  night,  when  frail 
womanhood  is  about,  that  things  seem  different 
from  what  they  really  are. 

Then  George  showed  his  boy  the  font  in 
which  he  was  baptised  wrhen  a  child,  and  then 
they  passed  the  crypts  in  the  wall  containing 


FAREWELL   SCENES          235 

the  old  armour;  but  George  knew  not  how  one 
of  these  became  inhabited  by  one  of  the  old 
knights,  and  came  near  frightening  his  young 
wife  to  death.  Better  had  her  life  ended  then, 
perhaps,  in  the  old  church,  for  sorrowing  with- 
out hope  is  a  living  death.  And  lastly  they 
came  to  the  vestry  room,  and  George  peeped 
in.  He  glanced  at  the  window ;  it  was  unbroken 
now.  He  did  not  enter,  but  his  boy  did,  and 
espying  the  oak  chest,  pulled  out  a  large  book. 
It  was  the  Register  of  Marriages.  The  boy 
opened  it.  His  eyes  glistened  as  he  turned  over 
its  pages.  Then  he  said,  "  What  a  funny  book 
—so  old-fashioned.  What  is  it  for,  papa? " 

George  turned  pale,  and  answered,  "  It  is 
a  register  of  the  persons  who  get  married  from 
this  parish,  my  son." 

"  And  is  your  name  in  it,  papa?  " 

George  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  with  a 
trembling  voice  answered,  "  Not  now,  my 
son." 

'  When  I  am  married  I  shall  have  my  name 
put  in  a  Register  just  like  this,"  the  boy  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Come,  my  son,"  and  George  walked  out 
of  the  old  church  with  downcast  eyes,  for  his 
heart  was  troubled. 


236   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Arriving  at  the  mansion,  George  took  his 
son  to  his  bedroom,  and  explained  to  him  that 
it  was  the  room  he  had  assigned  to  himself 
when  a  boy.  A  long-handled  shrimp-net  stood 
in  a  corner,  and  the  boy,  not  knowing  its  use, 
asked  if  it  was  used  for  catching  butterflies. 

George  as  yet  knew  nothing  of  the  awful 
doom  awaiting  him. 

As  the  evening  advanced,  he  requested  that 
his  son  be  allowed  to  sleep  with  him,  and  retired 
to  his  room. 

Somewhat  later  Margaret  knocked  at  his 
door  and  entered.  George  arose  and  looked  at 
her  suspiciously,  but  Margaret  requested  him 
to  retain  his  seat. 

For  a  moment  Margaret  seemed  at  a  loss 
how  to  act.  She  evidently  had  intended  ex- 
plaining the  nature  of  her  errand,  but  her 
heart  failed  her,  and  she  passed  the  letter,  noti- 
fying her  of  her  mother's  illness,  to  him. 

George  took  the  letter  much  as  he  would  a 
death  warrant,  and  after  having  perused  it,  his 
eyes  became  riveted  upon  it.  The  most  dread- 
ful calamity  that  could  befall  frail  humanity 
was  about  to  happen  to  him. 

As  George  remained  silent,  Margaret  said, 


FAREWELL  SCENES          237 

'  Think  not,  George,  that  I  am  anxious  to 
leave  you.  I  had  decided  never  to  leave  Eng- 
land until  I  had  seen  you  both  comparatively 
happy;  for  I  feel  that  after  these  awful  expe- 
riences neither  of  us  will  be  transcendently 
happy  again.  But  the  time  has  arrived  when 
I  must  depart.  My  mother  calls  for  me,  and 
our  boy  and  she  are  all  I  have  left  to  com- 
fort me;  and  if  my  mother  leaves  me  for  that 
better  land,  it  will  be  a  lonesome  life  for  me  at 
my  old  home — that  home  that  was  once  so  full 
of  sunshine."  And  then  falling  on  her  knees, 
and  nestling  her  head  against  his  bosom,  she 
continued,  "George,  take  courage  from  what 
I  am  going  to  say  to  you.  My  love  is  as 
deep  for  you  as  it  has  ever  been,  and  ever 
will  be.  I  shall  miss  you  as  much  as  you  will 
me.  We  must  live  in  the  reflection  of  those 
happy  days  that  have  passed.  Golden  days 
cannot  last  forever;  we  must  experience  some 
stormy  scenes.  Time  will  doubtless  heal  our 
wounds,  and  we  can  live  in  the  fond  reflection 
of  what  might  have  been.  At  night  when  you 
are  sad  and  weary,  remember  that  although  I 
am  far  away,  my  heart  is  ever  close  to  you." 

Then  she  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him,  and  he  pressed  her  madly  to  his 


238    THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

bosom,  and  his  tearful  silence  betrayed  the 
depth  of  his  grief. 

This  was  their  last  meeting  before  Margaret 
sailed  away.  She  spent  several  hours  with 
Catherine  after  her  meeting  with  George,  and 
at  midnight,  with  her  boy,  she  left  them  for 
Buenos  Ayres. 

Well  it  was  that  the  good  ship  met  with  no 
storm  to  impede  its  onward  course,  for  when 
Margaret  arrived  at  her  home,  without  having 
an  opportunity  to  change  her  garments,  she 
was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  her  mother, 
who  was  dying.  Sorrow  had  done  its  work 
with  her,  and  she  had  gradually  failed  in  health 
since  her  husband's  death. 

Margaret  went  to  her  mother's  bedside,  and 
bending  over  and  kissing  her,  said,  "  Dear 
mother,  I  have  returned  to  you." 

"  None  too  soon,  my  daughter.  I  am  very 
weak.  I  was  afraid  you  would  be  too  late. 
And  George,  where  is  he?  " 

"  He  has  been  very  ill,  too,  mother.  For 
weeks  we  despaired  of  his  recovery.  He 
wanted  to  come  along  with  me,  but  his  condi- 
tion would  not  admit  of  it,  and  I  must  impart 
the  kiss  he  gave  me  for  you." 

"  You  are  truthful,  my  dear?     But  then, 


FAREWELL   SCENES          239 

you  are  too  noble  to  be  otherwise."  And  then 
the  dying  woman  said,  "  I  feel  your  presence 
has  encouraged  me.  Send  for  your  harp, 
Margaret,  and  sing  to  me  as  you  used  to  do 
in  those  happy  days  before  your  father  died." 

The  harp  was  brought,  and  to  its  accompani- 
ment Margaret  sang  those  songs  which  her 
mother  loved.  At  first  her  voice  trembled,  for 
her  heart  was  more  sorrowful  than  it  is  the  fate 
of  most  women  to  bear;  but  as  she  proceeded, 
her  melodious  voice  thrilled  through  the  empty 
rooms  so  that  the  servants  congregated  in  a 
group  to  listen,  and  tears  filled  their  eyes  as 
they  realised  the  additional  sorrow  awaiting 
their  beautiful  young  mistress.  Her  mother 
seemed  to  be  beating  time  with  her  hand  at 
first,  then  she  became  still.  The  music  had 
borne  her  into  the  spirit  land. 

The  poor  woman  discovering  that  her  mother 
was  dead,  threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the 
bed,  and  cried,  "  Father  and  mother  and  hus- 
band gone ;  there  is  only  one  left! "  and  the  echo 
answered,  "  Only  one  left." 

There  were  many  who  shed  tears  at  the 
funeral  of  Margaret's  mother,  but  they  were 
mostly  shed  at  sight  of  the  noble  woman  whose 
bowed  form  indicated  the  anguish  of  her  soul. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

DEATH    OF    CATHERINE 

THE  day  following  Margaret's  de- 
parture was  a  very  quiet  one  at  the 
mansion. 
Notwithstanding  Catherine's  urg- 
ent wish  that  George  should  accompany  her 
to  see  her  safely  aboard  the  vessel,  Margaret 
objected.     It    might    have    been    that    she 
desired    no    doubt    to    arise    in    Catherine's 
mind  concerning  her  sincerity,  and  it  might 
have  been  that  she  was  afraid  that  George 
would  at  the  last  moment  insist  upon  following 
her;  instead,  therefore,  Caroline  and  the  old 
butler  accompanied  her. 

Catherine  met  George  in  the  hall,  and  going 
up  to  him,  she  took  him  gently  by  the  arm, 
saying,  '  Will  you  join  me  at  breakfast, 
George?  "  and  he  suffered  himself  to  be  led  to 
the  dining-room,  but  he  partook  of  little  food. 
He  had  already  discovered  that  the  butler  was 
missing,  and  finding  no  one  at  the  breakfast 
table,  he  divined  that  Margaret  had  departed 

240 


DEATH  OF  CATHERINE     241 

on  her  long  journey  home.  He  had  some  re- 
gard for  his  wife,  however,  even  in  this  hour  of 
grief,  for  he  stepped  up  to  her  and  kissed  her, 
saying,  "  Don't  worry  about  my  actions,  Cath- 
erine. I  shall  try  to  turn  my  heart  towards 
you,  but  the  time  is  not  yet.  I  have  loved  none 
but  you  and  her,  and  it  is  impossible  to  forget 
her." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  her,  George. 
It  would  make  me  more  unhappy  to  know  that 
you  did.  Margaret  is  the  most  noble  and  lova- 
ble woman  in  the  world,  and  I  love  her  devot- 
edly myself." 

'  Thank  you  for  saying  so,"  George  replied, 
and  he  wandered  out  on  the  grounds  and  finally 
seated  himself  underneath  the  rookery,  as 
though  desiring  to  be  near  something  that 
would  change  the  current  of  his  unhappy 
thoughts.  But  he  did  not  remain  long.  He 
wandered  about  from  place  to  place,  without 
any  apparent  object  but  to  forget  himself. 

During  the  day  Catherine  also  came  upon 
the  lawn  and  walked  about  conversing  with 
him.  She  had  given  up  all  idea  of  ever  trying 
to  win  him  back  to  her;  she  felt  that  his  love 
could  never  be  the  same,  and  she  preferred  to 
live  in  the  memory  of  the  past. 


242   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

On  the  third  day  Caroline  and  the  old  butler 
returned.  Caroline  was  very  unhappy;  she 
had  recently  been  crying,  and  she  could  hardly 
refrain  from  doing  so  again  as  she  entered  the 
mansion. 

The  parting  on  board  the  vessel  was  very 
sad.  On  finding  that  his  father  was  not  going 
to  accompany  them,  the  boy  cried,  "  I  want  my 
papa.  I  don't  want  to  leave  him.  Stay  with 
him,  mamma,"  and  he  kept  up  this  lament  until 
his  cries  became  so  heartrending  his  mother 
had  to  be  supported  by  the  butler,  whose  eyes 
became  dim  with  tears. 

Caroline  knelt  and  enfolded  the  boy  in  her 
arms,  saying,  "  Papa  will  come  to  you,  my 
brother,  as  soon  as  he  is  perfectly  well.  Don't 
grieve  your  mamma,  dear."  The  little  fellow 
sobbed  bitterly  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

The  captain  of  the  boat  came  forward,  and 
touching  his  cap,  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  separate 
you,  ladies,  but  we  have  already  waited  beyond 
our  usual  time,  especially  for  you." 

"  Poor  dears,"  said  an  old  gentleman,  "  it  is 
too  bad  that  mortals  are  gifted  with  the  power 
to  feel  so  sorrowful  at  parting." 

Then  the  bell  sounded  its  parting  knell,  and 
the  vessel  sped  out  into  the  ocean. 


DEATH   OF   CATHERINE     243 

George  met  his  daughter  in  the  hall,  and 
stepped  forward  and  kissed  her.  He  noticed 
her  saddened  face  and  said  interrogatively, 
'  They  have  gone,  my  daughter?  " 

*  Yes,  papa,"  said  Caroline,  at  the  same  time 
bursting  into  tears,  "  and  I  shall  miss  them  so. 
They  cried  so  bitterly  that  I  shall  never  be 
happy  again." 

George  took  out  his  handkerchief  and 
started  for  his  room,  and  his  sobs  could  be 
heard  long  afterwards. 

It  is  surprising  how  much  sorrow  the  heart 
can  bear  without  breaking,  but  time  seemed  in 
a  measure  to  assuage  George's  grief  over  Mar- 
garet's departure;  not  that  he  changed  in  any 
way  from  his  confirmed  sad  demeanour,  but  he 
roamed  around  the  old  walks  he  used  to  fre- 
quent when  a  boy,  with  no  other  apparent 
desire  but  to  forget  his  troubles  in  the  reminis- 
cences of  his  boyhood. 

Occasionally  Catherine  and  he  would  walk 
together  around  the  lawn,  but  there  was  never 
any  display  of  the  lover's  affection. 

Catherine  had  received  a  letter  from  Mar- 
garet stating  that  her  mother  had  died  a  few 
minutes  after  her  arrival.  A  correspondence 
was  kept  up  between  them  of  that  character 


244    THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

which  is  only  indulged  in  by  those  who  discover 
the  depth  of  each  other's  souls,  or  who  have  a 
lasting  regard  for  each  other. 

Two  years  had  elapsed  since  Margaret  left 
East  Looe,  and  Catherine  had  gradually  be- 
come reduced  in  health,  and  finally  was  con- 
fined to  her  room.  She  never  complained  of 
George's  attitude  towards  her,  but  on  the  con- 
trary, insisted  that  he  be  present  as  much  as 
possible  at  her  bedside;  and  it  was  here  that 
they  renewed  those  happy  recollections,  broken 
off  too  early  in  their  youth. 

It  was  by  her  bedside  that  her  beloved 
daughter,  Caroline,  was  married  to  him  who 
saved  her  life,  and  who  loved  her  from  the  time 
new  "  worlds  "  were  introduced  to  him. 

At  last,  after  several  months,  it  became 
evident  that  the  end  was  approaching,  and 
George  arose  to  call  his  daughter;  but  Cath- 
erine stopped  him,  saying,  "  George,  after  I 
am  dead,  go  to  Margaret,  embrace  her  for  me, 
and  tell  her  I  missed  her  sweet  face  this  side  of 
the  sea."  Then  drawing  his  head  down  on  the 
pillow  beside  her,  she  continued,  "  I  have  often 
thought  what  a  trivial  occurrence  will  some- 
times change  the  current  of  one's  life,  and  I 
have  wondered  what  our  lives  might  have  been 


DEATH  OF  CATHERINE     245 

had  not  the  fates  separated  us.  It  seems  so 
easy  to  picture  how  great  our  happiness  would 
have  been,  but  for  some  reason  we  were  pre- 
vented from  realising  it.  Yet  through  all  my 
sorrow  I  loved  you,  George,  and  your  absence 
made  the  heart  grow  fonder."  Catherine  re- 
mained in  deep  reverie  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
she  resumed,  "  I  want  you  to  think  of  me  as 
you  left  me  at  my  childhood's  home,  what 
seems  to  me  now  so  long  ago.  Promise  me 
that,  George." 

"  I  will,  my  dear  Catherine,"  he  answered, 
"  but  I  want  you  to  live,  so  that  we  can  resume 
that  love  where  the  fates  separated  us.  For- 
give me,  Catherine!  forgive  me,  my  love!  I 
shall  miss  you." 

Catherine's  face  lit  up  with  a  heavenly  smile. 
She  was  happy  in  the  thought  of  this  avowal, 
although  she  was  aware  it  was  impossible  of 
realisation. 

She  lingered  along  a  few  hours,  perfectly 
conscious  of  those  about  her,  and  when  her  last 
moments  approached  she  kissed  her  daughter 
a  last  farewell,  and  as  she  took  her  husband's 
hand,  she  drew  him  to  her  and  whispered, 
"  Don't  forget,"  and  her  pure  and  noble  spirit 
passed  away. 


246   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

Catherine  was  buried  in  the  family  mauso- 
leum alongside  Lady  Croyden,  to  carry  out  the 
latter's  dying  wish;  otherwise  it  had  been  her 
desire  to  be  buried  in  the  little  churchyard, 
alongside  her  parents. 

George  waited  around  for  several  months, 
knowing  that  if  he  made  any  unseemly  haste 
in  leaving,  without  giving  due  respect  to  his 
wife's  memory,  Margaret  would  resent  it. 

In  the  meantime,  Caroline  had  taken  up  the 
correspondence  with  Margaret,  and  had  in- 
formed her  of  her  mother's  death. 

One  day  George  received  a  few  lines  from 
Margaret  stating: 

"  Our  boy  is  very  sick.  He  calls  for  you. 
Speed  if  you  would  see  him." 

That  day  George  spent  several  hours  in  the 
mausoleum,  and  then  notifying  his  daughter 
that  he  was  going  to  Buenos  Ayres,  he  bid  her 
an  affectionate  good-bye  and  departed  on  his 
journey. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

FILLED    TO    OVERFLOWING 

MARGARET  having  buried  her 
mother,  was  left  with  her  son  to 
occupy  the  mansion  with  its  many 
empty  rooms,  for  the  servants 
kept  to  the  first  story  underneath  the  verandah, 
as  was  the  custom  in  Buenos  Ayres. 

For  months  she  was  bowed  down  with  a  sor- 
row which  knew  no  healing,  and  when  her  boy 
was  absent  from  her  side  she  would  wander 
through  the  empty  rooms,  and  the  echoes  would 
resound  in  mournful  refrains ;  so  mournful,  in- 
deed, that  the  angels  might  look  down  from  the 
heights  and  pity  her. 

But  even  her  cup  was  not  yet  full,  for  at  last 
her  son  was  taken  grievously  ill.  The  hope 
which  had  buoyed  her  up  through  all  her  adver- 
sity, in  having  her  son  to  comfort  her,  was  now 
hanging  in  the  balance ;  and  she  prayed  that  if 
her  boy  could  not  be  spared  to  her,  that  her  soul 
too  might  take  its  flight. 

The  sick  boy  had  constantly  called  for  his 

24T 


248   THE   BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

father,  and  one  day,  after  an  unusually 
sick  period,  the  poor  boy  said,  "Mamma, 
will  papa  never  come?  I  feel  I  can't  wait 
much  longer." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  the  unfortunate  woman 
replied,  "he  is  coming.  Live,  my  boy,  to  see 
him;"  and  then  her  heart  became  so  heavy  she 
left  the  sick  room,  so  that  her  grief  would  not 
worry  him,  and  wandered  through  the  great 
vacant  house  wringing  her  hands. 

Blow,  ye  winds,  if  ever  ye  blew  good;  waft 
him  to  the  shore  to  his  boy  who  so  fondly  hopes. 

Another  dread  night  of  watching  without 
hope,  and  the  morning  broke. 

'  Will  papa  come  soon,  mamma?  I  am  so 
tired." 

'  Yes,  my  love,  he  will  be  here  this  morning, 

I   feel  that "   and  then  the  unfortunate 

woman  once  more  left  the  sick  room.  Her 
heart  was  breaking.  She  went  to  a  distant 
room  and  the  pent-up  anguish  burst  from  her. 

"George!"  she  cried,  "are  you  coming!" 
and  then  through  fear  and  love  and  anguish, 
she  screamed,  "George!  George!  he  will  die!" 

Then  a  voice  which  sent  a  thrill  through  her 
echoed  through  the  empty  rooms,  "  Margaret, 
my  darling,  where  art  thou?  " 


FILLED   TO   OVERFLOWING    249 

She  rushed  to  him,  her  eyes  bedewed  with 
tears.  "  Oh !  George !  I  fear  it  is  too  late ! "  and 
she  hastened  with  him  to  the  dying  boy.  He 
was  alive,  and  had  heard  his  father's  voice. 

As  his  father  bent  over  to  kiss  him,  the  boy 
with  a  last  effort  put  his  frail  arms  round  his 
neck,  saying,  "Oh!  papa,  I  have  missed  you. 
Mamma  and  I  have  been  so  lonely.  We  will 
never  part  again,  will  we,  papa?  " 

The  father  with  tears  streaming  down  his 
cheeks  answered,  "  No,  my  son,  never  more.  I 
have  missed  you  also,  but  the  fates  willed  it. 
Live,  my  boy,  to  let  me  know  who  I  am,  for  I 
know  not." 

The  boy  was  silent,  and  the  father,  alarmed, 
gazed  upon  his  countenance.  He  was  so  happy 
in  that  he  had  at  last  seen  his  father,  that  it 
released  the  tension  of  the  heart,  and  as  he  lay, 
he  cast  his  eyes  first  upon  his  mother  and  then 
upon  his  father,  and  an  angelic  smile  spread 
over  his  countenance.  "  I  see  her! "  he  said. 

"  Whom  do  you  see,  my  son? "  asked  his 
mother. 

The  dying  boy  answered,  "  The  Lady  across 
the  water;  she  is  clothed  in  white,  and  she 
stands  in  the  sunshine  beckoning  me."  Then 
with  a  more  gladsome  smile  and  an  effort  to 


250   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

raise  himself,  he' whispered,  "I  am  coming," 
and  the  young  life  which  should  have  known  no 
sorrow,  but  experienced  it  nevertheless,  drifted 
away  to  the  land  that  knows  no  parting,  leav- 
ing its  poor  little  house  of  clay  for  his  parents 
to  mourn  over. 

And  they,  poor  frantic  souls,  already  over- 
burdened, took  each  other  by  the  hand  and 
wandered  through  the  empty  rooms,  their 
heart-rending  cries  echoing,  "  We  will  never 
hear  his  voice  again  I  " 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

A    RESOLUTION 

MARGARET  was  slow  to  recover 
from  the  shock  this  additional  sor- 
row occasioned,  and  rarely  left  the 
boundary  of  the  estate.  Wherever 
she  was  seen,  George  was  with  her.     They 
were  devoted  to  each  other,  but  the  old  love 
with  its  glad  expression  had  disappeared,  and 
in  its  place  the  sadness  of  both  their  lives  had 
taken  its  place. 

They  wandered  about  as  though  in  deep 
thought ;  indeed,  the  loss  of  their  boy  was  ever 
present  with  them.  They  would  sit  on  the  ver- 
andah as  in  days  of  yore,  and  the  mavis  would 
sing  just  as  sweetly  as  ever;  but  it  was  a  sad 
song  to  the  lovers.  It  reminded  them  of  the 
days  when  there  was  no  sorrow. 

One  evening  as  they  were  thus  seated, 
George  related  to  Margaret  the  death-bed 
scene  of  Catherine,  and  the  message  he  was 
commissioned  to  communicate. 

251 


252   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

"  Catherine  was  a  noble  woman,"  Margaret 
replied ;  "  but  it  has  often  flashed  through  my 
mind  that  if  I  had  not  enquired  concerning 
your  parents,  Catherine  would  possibly  have 
been  alive  to-day,  comparatively  happy  in  your 
memory,  and  that  we  likewise  might  be  free 
from  all  the  sorrow  which  my  solicitude 
brought  about." 

"  Never  mind,  my  love,"  said  George.  "  It 
was  a  righteous  and  a  noble  act;  and  although 
it  is  impossible  to  change  one's  affection  when 
once  it  has  become  firmly  fixed,  it  is  wise  to  dis- 
cover beforehand  that  there  is  no  obstacle." 

As  they  were  wandering  through  the  house 
one  day,  they  stopped  in  the  room  in  which 
their  boy  had  died,  as  was  their  wont  to  do ;  and 
there  they  sat  down. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  can  see  us? "  Margaret 
remarked. 

'  We  will  never  know  until  we  cross  the 
river,"  George  replied.  Then,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  harp  which  had  remained  in  the 
room,  he  said,  "  Margaret,  my  love,  you  have 
not  touched  the  harp  since  I  arrived." 

"  I  feel  I  can  never  play  the  old  tunes  or 
sing  those  songs  again.  Perhaps  when  my 
spirit  is  free,  and  I  have  joined  my  loved  ones 


A   RESOLUTION  253 

again,  I  then  may  sing  the  old  songs  through 
all  eternity."  Then  seeing  that  George  became 
more  saddened  at  this  speech,  she  arose,  and 
taking  the  harp,  she  ran  her  fingers  over  the 
strings;  then  she  sang  Tom  Moore's  beautiful 
melody,  "  The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's 
halls,"  and  as  she  finished,  the  echoes  came  so 
gently,  and  from  such  a  distance,  that  they 
seemed  to  be  wafted  from  that  land  where 
Tara  dwelt. 

"  Our  boy  loved  so  to  hear  it,"  Margaret 
said. 

George  kissed  her  and  remarked,  "  Noticed 
thou  that  the  echo  came  from  afar?  " 

"Ah!  if  we  only  knew,"  the  poor  woman 
sighed. 

Again  her  fingers  swept  the  strings,  but  to 
an  unknown  tune;  it  was  an  improvisation 
from  the  heart;  now  low,  the  strains  reverber- 
ated through  the  empty  rooms  as  though 
wafted  through  the  gothic  arches  of  an  ancient 
church;  then  ascending  the  scale,  the  delicate 
notes  filled  the  soul  with  enchanting  scenes,  in 
which  love,  and  beauty,  and  music  ever  dwell; 
scenes  which  mortals  rarely  realise.  Finally 
the  music  modulated  until  its  echoes  were  lost. 

Margaret  leaned  on  the  harp  a  moment,  and 


254   THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

said,  "  George,  I  feel  this  is  the  end  of  earthly 
music;  my  heart  throbs  so  that  it  cannot  endure 
much  longer."  Then  as  she  advanced  towards 
him,  George  clasped  her  to  his  bosom  and 
kissed  her,  and  led  her  to  the  verandah,  saying, 
"  The  rooms  are  oppressive,  my  dear." 

"  Oppressive  with  sorrowful  memories, 
George,  and  although  those  recollections  kill 
me,  I  cannot  leave  them." 

"Ah!  my  dear,  if  we  could  fly  away  and  join 
them,  what  a  relief  it  would  be." 

As  the  evening  advanced,  George  fell  in  a 
deep  reverie.  Since  his  arrival  at  Margaret's 
home,  he  had  been  contented  with  the  happi- 
ness her  presence  radiated,  and  he  had  not  re- 
newed his  suit,  nor  in  any  way  opposed  her 
inclinations;  but  he  had  now  become  alarmed 
after  her  health. 

As  he  walked  up  and  down  the  verandah, 
Margaret  approached  to  kiss  him  good-night. 
George  took  her  in  his  arms  and  said  to  her, 
"  My  dear  Margaret,  your  old  home  has  no 
associations  left,  saving  those  that  lie  in  the 
grave.  We  can  honour  the  memories  of  our 
loved  ones  wherever  we  may  be,  although  it  is 
a  comfort  to  be  near  them. 

"  I  would  not  prevail  upon  you  to  relinquish 


A   RESOLUTION  255 

your  home,  did  I  not  discover  that  your  health 
is  visibly  failing.  Come  back  with  me,  my  dar- 
ling. The  sea-air  and  change  of  scenery  will 
do  you  good.  Besides,  you  are  not  a  stranger 
there." 

"Could  you  leave  our  boy,  George?  " 

"  We  will  lay  him  beside  Catherine,"  George 
replied. 

Margaret  still  remained  enfolded  in  his 
arms,  and  as  she  hesitated  to  make  reply, 
George  used  the  strategy  of  whispering,  "  Say 
'  yes,'  my  dear,  for  my  sake." 

"Do  you  intend  going  at  once,  George?  " 

"  As  soon  as  rapid  preparations  will  admit," 
he  replied.  '  Your  health  demands  it,  Mar- 
garet." 

"  And  your  exilement  from  home,  and  the 
sorrow  it  brought  about,  entitles  you  to  that 
blessed  prospect.  My  love,  I  will  go  there  and 
live  with  you." 

"  O  happy  day!  "  and  George  in  his  ecstacy 
kissed  her  again  and  again. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

THE    WELCOME 

THERE  is  one  event  in  the  annals  of 
East  Looe  the  equal  of  which  was 
never  known  in  its  limited  history, 
and  is  not  likely  to  occur  again  in  the 
history  of  the  world. 

One  delightful  May  morning  an  unusual 
commotion  took  place  among  its  inhabitants. 

The  old  fishermen,  arrayed  in  their  best,  had 
congregated  in  full  force  on  the  brow  of  the 
cliff,  provided  with  telescopes  and  fish-horns; 
and  scattered  on  the  slopes  of  the  village  the 
entire  inhabitants,  men,  women,  and  children, 
in  gala  dress,  had  assembled  and  were  patiently 
awaiting  a  signal. 

Presently  a  stately  yacht  sailed  into  the  har- 
bour, and  as  it  came  within  hailing  distance, 
the  fish-horns  blared  with  such  enthusiasm  in 
their  owners'  determination  to  outdo  each  other, 
that  old  Boreas  was  for  a  time  at  a  discount. 

George  Croyden  had  taken  this  means  of 

256 


Then  the  little  doctor  meekly  appeared  and  shook  hands ' ' 


THE   WELCOME  257 

transporting  his  loved  one  and  her  precious 
treasures  to  her  new  home. 

As  the  yacht  touched  the  dock,  Caroline 
rushed  into  Margaret's  arms,  and  fairly  swal- 
lowed her  up  in  her  warm  embrace. 

Next  came  the  rector,  who  bestowed  several 
kisses  on  Margaret's  cheeks.  It  was  scan- 
dalous. 

Old  Nicholas  Stocker,  of  fishing-moon  fame, 
was  standing  perilously  near,  and  muttered 
something  about  crab-bait;  but  it  is  fair  to 
assume  that  he  had  no  murderous  designs  on 
Margaret. 

Then  the  little  doctor  meekly  appeared  and 
shook  hands;  and  as  if  this  was  not  welcome 
enough,  the  villagers  in  a  body,  at  a  signal 
from  the  organist,  sang  "  Home,  sweet  home;" 
and  although  there  were  some  stray  voices,  and 
some  dissonant  ones,  and  the  old  fishermen  in- 
sisted upon  using  their  fish-horns  now  and 
again,  under  the  inspiration  that  there  was 
music  in  them  somewhere,  it  is  perhaps  well 
that  they  did,  for  Margaret,  at  the  first  sound 
of  "home"  felt  like  crying;  but  the  ludicrous 
interposition  of  the  fish-horns  saved  her,  for 
she  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  with  in- 
tent to  deceive,  and  hid  her  face  in  the  lapel 


258    THE  BARONET  RAG-PICKER 

of  George's  coat  and  laughed,  oh !  such  a  merry 
laugh. 

Next  came  the  sound  of  the  merry  bells  from 
the  old  church  tower.  To  be  sure,  they  jan- 
gled and  clanged  at  first,  because  the  ringers 
were  not  accustomed  to  such  sudden  emotions. 
The  quaint  mottoes  on  those  bells  rang  out  in 
happy  confusion;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  the 
old  rector  who  inscribed  them  in  the  long  ago 
would  never  have  recognised  his  work.  But 
they  finally  got  working  into  rhyme  as  they 
were  originally  designed  to  do,  thus : 

"  By  music,  minds  a  quiet  temper  know. 
Nor  swell  too  high,  nor  sink  too  low. 
Music  the  fiercest  grief  can  charm, 
And  fate's  severest  rage  disarm. 
Music  can  soften  pain  and  ease, 
And  make  despair  and  madness  please. 
Our  joys  below  it  can  improve, 
And  antedate  the  bliss  above." 

To  the  music  of  the  bells  the  villagers,  led 
by  the  rector,  proceeded  to  the  lawn  at  Croyden 
mansion,  where  they  spent  the  day  in  games 
and  feasting. 

A  carriage  was  waiting  for  Margaret,  but 
following  the  example  set  by  George  on  that 
fateful  day  when  first  they  met,  she  placed  her 


THE   WELCOME  259 

arm  in  his  and  walked  to  the  mausoleum,  which 
they  found  decorated  with  flowers. 

As  they  entered  Margaret  stooped  and 
plucked  a  violet,  and  placed  it  on  Catherine's 
tomb,  which  she  knelt  beside  in  the  attitude  of 
prayer. 

The  following  Sunday  the  church  was  filled 
to  overflowing,  the  villagers  being  drawn 
thither  in  the  hope  of  again  seeing  the  beauti- 
ful lady  whom  George  had  brought  to  their 
shores ;  and  they  were  not  disappointed. 

After  the  lessons  of  the  day  there  was 
another  surprise  in  store,  for  the  rector,  hold- 
ing a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand,  called  in  a  loud 
voice,  "  I  publish  the  banns  of  marriage  be- 
tween George  Croyden,  of  this  parish,  and 
Margaret  Glanville,  late  of  Buenos  Ayres.  If 
any  of  you  know  of  any  just  cause  or  impedi- 
ment, why  these  two  persons  should  not  be 
joined  together  in  holy  matrimony,  ye  are  to 
declare  it.  This  is  the  first  time  of  asking." 

The  second  and  third  challenges  having  been 
read  on  the  two  succeeding  Sabbath  days,  the 
marriage  was  immediately  solemnised,  and  ac- 
companied by  another  feast  to  the  villagers. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

HOME!  SWEET  HOME! 

MANY  years  have  elapsed  since  the 
occurrences  in  the  preceding 
chapter. 

The  property  at  Buenos  Ayres 
was  placed  in  the  hands  of  an  agent;  the  land 
was  rented,  but  it  was  impossible  to  find  a 
tenant  for  the  mansion.  The  agent  had 
written  that  upon  every  occasion  of  his 
showing  the  interior  to  a  prospective  tenant, 
the  echoes  emanating  from  the  various  rooms 
were  so  plaintive  that  they  fled  in  terror. 
Finally  the  premises  had  become  known  as 
'  The  house  of  many  lamentations,"  and  it  is 
very  likely  it  will  fall  into  ruins. 

A  boundless  love  continues  to  prevail  in  the 
atmosphere  of  Croyden  manor.  The  old  quiet 
sanctity  of  the  place  has  been  enlivened  by  the 
merry  voices  of  little  children,  of  whom  several 
bear  the  name  of  Croyden.  They  ramble 
around  the  old  mansion  in  such  numbers  that 

260 


nothing  is  sacred  to  them.  The  hall  is  littered 
with  Noah's  arks,  and  the  animals  are  distrib- 
uted about  in  endless  confusion,  minus  heads 
and  legs,  representing  a  miniature  battle-field. 

Margaret  roams  about  with  her  husband 
over  the  large  estate,  and  takes  daily  drives 
with  him  in  the  neighbourhood,  enjoying  the 
rural  scenes. 

After  gratifying  her  curiosity  with  the  sight 
of  a  gipsy  encampment,  Margaret  never  could 
be  induced  to  go  near  one  again,  nor,  indeed, 
would  she  allow  them  inside  the  estate.  She 
very  properly  stated  that  one  unhappy  experi- 
ence emanating  from  that  quarter  was  enough 
for  many  generations  of  Croydens. 

A  beautiful  tomb  was  placed  beside  Cath- 
erine's, for  the  reception  of  their  lost  boy,  and 
the  mausoleum  was  a  weekly  rendezvous. 

George  Croyden  had  the  appellation  of 
"  Squire  "  added  to  his  name  by  the  villagers, 
which  Margaret  insisted  made  him  a  trifle  vain. 

Time  and  the  presence  of  children  has  "as- 
sisted in  eradicating  much  of  their  early  sor- 
row; but  George  informed  Margaret  he  was 
unable  to  dismiss  the  horror  which  drove  him  to 
the  necessity  of  appearing  in  the  role  of  "  Rags 
and  Bones." 


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Handsomely  Bound,  Price  $1.50.    At  all  Booksellers 
C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


MftRJIE 

©F    THE    LOWER    RHNGH 


A.  JV    O 


This  is  a  ranch  story  by  a  real 
ranch  girl.  She  has  woven  into  her 
breezy  Western  romance  vivid  pic- 
tures of  ranch  life  from  the  viewpoint 
of  a  girl  who  has  lived  on  the  great 
Montana  ranches  since  childhood. 
Miss  Parker's  writing  has  the  West- 
ern dash  that  might  be  expected  of  a 
girl  who  would  not  ride  a  broncho  that 
she  herself  had  not  broken  to  saddlee 


"Viotor  A. 


G.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.     *     BOSTON 


The  Critics  are  Enthusiastic 

'OVER: 


SATAN'S 


MOUNT 

By  DWIGHT  TILTON,  author  of 
"MISS  PETTICOATS*' 

\A7lt  «*+  H°W  TO  KNOW  THE  BOOKS, 
W  Hal  April,  1903.  "  This  story  has 
a  prophetic  side,  reminiscent 
of  '  Looking  Backward,'  but  its 
clever  satirizations  and  veiled 
illusions  to  living  personages  give  it  more  of  actuality  than 
that  widely  read  social  study." 

NEW  YORK  AMERICA1S,  Saturday,  April  11,  1903.  "  So 
strongly  written  and  presents  a  national  peril  so  boldly 
treated  as  to  insure  immediate  attention  and  provoke  com- 
ment which  will  make  this  book  of  more  than  passing  value." 
THE  NEW  ORLEANS  SUNDAY  STATES,  Sunday,  April  5, 
1903.  "It  probes  the  secrets  of  capitalism  and  labor,  of 
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most discomposing." 

THE  OUTLOOK,  March  21 ,  1903.  "  Wall  Street  and  Wash- 
ington are  the  theatres  of  action,  and  in  the  characters  many 
will  think  they  recognize  composite  pictures  of  prominent 
men.  The  story  is  fanciful,  but  not  without  power  and  not 
without  a  lesson  " 


Illustrated.        Bound  in  Red  Art,  Crash         Price,  $1.50 
C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.  W  BOSTON 


Love  Stories  s™  Real  Life 


By    MILDRED    CHAMPAGNE 


EVERY   BOOK 

CONTAINS 

A  DETACHABLE 

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C.  M.  Clark  Publishing  Company,  Boston 


"  He  has  told  a   strong,   honest   story   and 
told  it  well."  —  BROOKLYN  EAGLE. 

"  A  book  of  uncommon  cleverness." 

—  BOSTON  GLOBE. 


HESTER 
BLAIR 

THE  ROMANCE  OP  A  COUNTRY  GIRL 
...  BY ... 

WILLIAM  HENRY  CARSON 

A  BOOK  YOU  WILL 
HEAR  ABOUT.  READ. 
AND  TALK  ABOUT 


HESTER    BLAIR   is    a   sweet   and   lovable 
character  though  a  puzzling  one 


Attractively  Bound  in  Red  Silk 
Cloth  and  Gold,  Gilt  Top 
ILLUSTRATED  §1.50 


C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY.  BOSTON 


Telling  an   Hitherto  Unrevealed  Romance  in  One  of 
New    York's    Oldest    and     Most    Exclusive    Families 


TITO 


BY 

WILLIAM  HENRY  CARSON,  author  "Hester  Blair" 


UNANIMOUS  PRAISE 'S  PRESS 


"A  story  of  strong  power,  depicting  the  human  emotions." 

CHICAGO  JOURNAL,  March  zj. 

**  There  i«  no  more  attractive  figure  in  current  fiction  than  that  which 
Mr.  Canon  has  conceived." — NKW  YORK  WORLD,  March.i4. 

"  Told  with  delicacy  of  feeling  and  thorough  knowledge  of  the  Italian 
temperament." — PUBLIC  OPINION,  April  i. 

"The  reading  public  will  take  it  np  with  increasing  and  consuming 
interest — will  love  Tito." — CHICAGO  RKCOKD-HEKALD,  March  z8. 

"It  contains  abundant  action,  numerous  startling  scenes  and  no  end 
of  mysteries.  There  is  a  fascination  about  Tito  that  compels  sympathy 
and  interest." — BOSTON  TRANSCRIPT,  April  8. 

**  The  author  has  placed  the  simple  Florence  youth  far  above  the 
characters  of  recent  fiction — it  is  a  masterpiece  of  dramatic  fiction."— NEW 
YORK  AMERICAN  AND  JOURNAL,  March  z8. 

"  Mr.  Carson  has  handled  his  material  in  a  masterly  manner  and  given 
fiction  a  strong  book." — INDIANAPOLIS  SENTINEL,  April  5. 


Illustrations  by  C.  H.  STEPHENS  on?  A.  B.  SHUTS 
Bound  In  Red  Art  Crash 


Price,  1.50 


C.  M.  Clark  Publishing  Co.,  Boston 


Por  $1.50 


IN  STAMPS,  MONEY  ORDER  OR 
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A  SET  OF 


9 


7THESE  posters 
are  reproduc- 
tions of  original 
oil  sketches  done 
exclusively  for  us  by 
well-known  artists. 

They  vary  in  size 
from  12  x  18  inches 
to  18x26  inches,  and 
are  most  attractively 
printed  in  four 


BEAUTIFUL 
POSTERS 

AND 

VOUR   CHOICE 

OF  THK  FOLLOWING 

POPULAR 

CLOTH  BOUND  AND  ILLUSTRATED  fl.SO 

NOVELS. 

MARJIE  of  the  LOWER  RANCH, 

By  Frances  Parker. 

LOVE  STORIES  fram  REAL  LIFE, 
By  Mildred  Champagne. 

MISS  PETTICOATS, 

By  Dwight  Tilton. 

QUINCY  ADAMS  SAWYER, 

By  Charles  Felton  Pidgin. 

MY  LADY  LAUGHTER, 
By  Dwight  Tilton. 

ON  SATAN'S  MOUNT, 
By  Dwight  Tilton. 

TITO, 

By  William  Henry  Carson. 

HESTER  BLAIR, 

By  William  Henry  Carson 

HOPE   HATHAWAY, 

By  Frances  Parker. 


colors. 

Address  G.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  BOSTON. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000125193     3 


